


Down and Out

by atamascolily



Series: Sinbad Virtual Season Two [1]
Category: The Adventures of Sinbad (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-it fic, Gen, Sinbad Season Two AUs, Virtual Season Two: Bryn, virtual season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12159870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: When Maeve spies a mysterious figure on the deck of the Nomad at night, the encounter will twist the lives of everyone in the crew and nothing will ever be the same again.Episode 2x01 of a Virtual Season Two where Maeve leaves the crew for a time and Bryn takes her place, but otherwise diverges from the canon season two quite dramatically.





	1. Chapter 1

Maeve couldn't sleep. Something was buzzing in the back of her mind, and it was too stuffy below deck to think. Most of the men who were off-duty were still awake, playing cards, and she hadn't the patience for it. She needed to feel the wind, smell the ocean. 

She stepped gingerly out onto the deck, not quite knowing what to expect. She heard Dermott chirp and without turning to look, she raised a gauntleted fist and he landed with practiced poised. He didn't normally fly at night, but she couldn't blame him for wanting to be close to her. She felt jittery, on edge, as if an enemy were approaching, some vague formless threat she couldn't quite name. But there was no one there. 

Everything was so calm. The sea was tranquil. There was no wind. They were anchored off the island of Cyprus, and fires and lanterns gleamed in the distance from a city spreading up the hill a few miles away across the sea. They'd arrived too late in the evening to safely guide the boat into port; Sinbad had opted to wait until morning. The moon was full and its light shone down, bathing the decks with pale light. 

She frowned. Since they were anchored, there was no need to have someone at the tiller, but she was surprised not to see ANYONE on the night watch. Sinbad was usually more disciplined than that. Had something happened? Is that why she was feeling jittery? 

It had been over a year since Maeve had come on board The Nomad for the first time. She would never have come had Master Dim-Dim not insisted... and she had stayed, because she didn't know what else to do (that, and a healthy dose of pride). Grudgingly, despite herself, she'd come to love the crew as a family. Loyal Doubar, stoic Rongar, inventive Firouz.... and even Sinbad, when he dropped the arrogant, know-it-all, cocky, I'm-in-charge attitude, could be surprisingly kind. As much as she hated to admit it, Master Dim-Dim had been right (he usually was, though she'd fought it like mad at the time): she and Sinbad had quite a bit in common. 

Including, she thought with a grimace, their hatred for the sorceress Rumina, who was still alive despite all their efforts to destroy her. Rumina, the woman who had destroyed Maeve and Dermott's lives, twisted and broken them into something beyond all recognition, for no better reason than sheer pique. Rumina was not a woman who appreciated the word "no," and both Maeve and Dermott had said "no". Repeatedly. Maeve's mouth twisted, and she hastily pushed down the memories of that fateful day, seared into her mind in exacting detail. Maeve had tried to kill her on that day, and she'd failed. She'd sworn that she wouldn't rest until Rumina was dead and Dermott was restored to his true form - and so far, she hadn't succeeded. All those years and still a failure. Failure. 

She wasn't the only one who had suffered because of Rumina, she reminded herself, slowing her breath in an attempt to calm down. Rumina had tortured Sinbad when he'd refused her overtures, wanted him dead because he'd killed her father. Not to mention the hundreds of innocents Rumina had casually slaughtered in the name of getting her way. Anyway, they had encountered Rumina together several times, most recently with their attack on Skull Island with the aid of the magical Gryphon's Egg emerald a few short weeks ago. Although they had failed to kill her, the sorceress's stronghold had been totally destroyed, and Sinbad had sworn he would help her defeat Rumina or die trying. And when Sinbad said he would do something, he'd follow through with it, come hell or high water (literally), through impossible odds. 

So she didn't have to do this alone anymore, this task she'd been carrying on her shoulders for so many years. Didn't have to take on all of the responsibility, all of the guilt. Maybe Sinbad - 

Something red and shining flickered in the corner of her vision, the same color as her hair. Had the wind not been so preternaturally calm, she would have thought the night breeze had picked up strands of her own hair, but it wasn't so. She turned, her eyes narrowing. Her skin prickled. Was this what had been making her so uneasy all evening? Dermott, too, tensed, shifting his weight on her first, ready to take off should she need to draw her sword. Her right hand reflexively reached for the sword that usually hung at her waist, and she cursed herself for a fool - when she was aboard ship, the sword was stowed in the rack below decks with the others. No use to her now. 

Had she seen it with her own eyes alone, she would have doubted what she saw. Even with the full moon's light, it was too hard to see details among the shadows, too easy for the imagination to fill in the gaps and fool the mind with fantasies. But Dermott saw it, too, and she could see through Dermott's eyes if she wanted to - see what he saw, feel what he felt, heard what he thoughts. This had been true from the beginning - for her whole life, in that aching time before, when he had been her beloved twin brother. But now he saw with a hawk's eyes, and hawk eyes were sharper than humans with a power beyond what Firouz's magniscope - all his lenses and glasses - could do. Maeve saw it, too. 

She saw herself. Her reflection, as if looking in a mirror, her features twisted in a horrible sneer as she perched on the edge of the ship's deck, holding a few lines of sail for balance. 

It was impossible. Totally and completely impossible. 

And yet it was true. 

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her knees buckle underneath her and Dermott took flight to save himself from falling as she lost her balance. She swayed, suddenly dizzy, yellow threads filling her vision and only the ghostly apparition illuminated by the moonlight still steady and clear.

The mysterious woman with her face shifted and twisted in the moonlight, her features distorting and distending into a harpy's beak, like some sort of terrible nightmare writ large. Caught in the horror of it all, suddenly paralyzed, Maeve did something then that, under other circumstances, she would have found completely embarrassing and infantile. 

She screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Below decks, the men playing cards heard a woman's scream, and there was no question in Sinbad's mind what the source was. "MAEVE!" He leapt across the table towards the rack where the swords were kept during the voyage, grabbed his weapon and was out the door to the deck before the others had a chance to gather their wits. It didn't take long. Rongar, who always wore his knives even aboard ship and had been sitting closest to the door, was right at Sinbad's heels, sword in hand. Firouz and Doubar took a second longer to reach their swords, and, shouting, they followed. 

What they saw when they burst out of the cabin was horrifying. Maeve was collapsed on the deck, her long red hair swathed over her face, obscuring her features. She didn't move. Dermott was perched on one of the lines, hissing fiercely, his feathers puffed out in alarm as a tawny harpy hovered above the deck, confronting Sinbad, who was beating it back with his sword. 

With a cry, Firouz rushed over to Maeve and dropped to his knees, his fingers reaching for her pulse. She was alive, but her heartbeat was so slow and weak, and, worryingly, she didn't move or register that she'd felt his touch. Rongar threw a knife at the harpy's chest, but the monster dodged it and the blade clattered to the deck behind her, useless. He threw another blade and this time when the harpy moved out of the way, it hit the mast and stuck fast in the wood with a thump. 

"Sinbad, what happened? How do we handle this?" Doubar shouted. 

"Toss me one of those long spears!" Sinbad shouted, referring to the harpoon and halberd stash stowed on the cabin side for events such as these. 

Doubar complied. "Here it comes!" he yelled. "Catch!"

With a flick of the wrist, Sinbad turned at just the right moment, dropping his shorter sword and grabbing the spear out of the air with both hands. He lashed out at the harpy with the longer weapon, his reach emboldening his attacks. 

"Maeve, what happened? Are you all right?" Firouz tried to sweep back the curtain of hair obscuring her face, but she woke with a start, frantically clawing his fingers away. 

"No! No! Get off me! I have to go! I have to go!" She panted, her short, halting breaths breaking up each word into short, sharp, staccato beats. She pushed him away, so forcefully he fell, and she started crawling away on hands and knees towards the ongoing battle. None of them could see her face. "I have to--"

The harpy dove and leapt towards her, crying out with sudden glee. "MAEVE!" Sinbad screamed and he lunged at the monster, cutting her off from the attack. The spear caught the harpy's wing and she faltered in mid-air. Black blood dripped from the wound, and puddled on the deck, causing the boards to fizz and smoke at the impact. Sinbad yanked the spear out of the wing and pulled it back, preparing for the killing blow.

The harpy hesitated - hovering - for a second with its remaining wing beating frantically as the injured one dangled limply at her side. In that moment, her features twisted and shifted, no longer reptilian. Red hair blossomed out around her skull in a shimmering cascade. Her mouth opened and closed in a spasm of pain and suddenly Sinbad was face-to-face with--

- _Maeve._

Even though he knew it was a trap, knew it was impossible, knew it to be a lie, knew with every fiber of his being that the real Maeve was sprawled out at his feet, he hesitated anyway. Anyone would have, he told himself later. Besides, it wasn't as if killing her then and there would have stopped the trouble that followed. He hesitated, poised for the killing blow with the long spear in both hands, and the harpy's features shifted again back to their tawny reptilian form and she flapped hard to gain altitude, soaring up over the mast and sails into the night and vanishing. 

"MAEVE!" Sinbad yelled, the spear clattering to the ground as he knelt beside the prone body on the deck. She was twitching and shaking, face down, and her hair was everywhere. "Maeve, what happened? Are you all right?" The others clustered around him at a close, but respectful distance. 

"Sinbad." Her voice was dull and broken, dead, defeated. "Sinbad, I'm a danger to you, a danger to you all. I have to go. I have to go."

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "You're safe here. We can take care of ourselves, you know," he added, a lame attempt at humor. 

"You idiot." For a moment, she sounded like her normal self again - the stubborn, arrogant, confident, (amazingly talented) Maeve that he knew so well. "That was my death. My death. And yours, too, if I don't leave her." 

"Maeve. I don't know what happened, but I saw that harpy had your face. It was you, and it wasn't you. I don't know what dark magic is at work here, but we can fight it together, like we always have. We can help you." 

"Sinbad..." 

"We'll talk about it the morning, Maeve. That's an order from your captain. Everything looks more cheerful in the light of day. Firouz, Rongar, help her below-deck." 

Sinbad took a deep breath. It was a good thing she couldn't see his face, because his expression belied his calm, gentle reassurances. "It's going to be okay, Maeve. It's okay," he said slowly, as if saying it would make it so. 

She was still gasping and panting, shaking as the two men led her belowdecks. As soon as they were out of earshot, Doubar, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during that exchange, rushed to Sinbad's side. "Little brother, I don't like this. Maeve isn't the sort to fall to pieces like this for no reason. She's kept her head under pressure before when we've been fighting much worse than this. Something is different. And you saw what happened to the harpy there. It looked just like her!"

"Black magic," Sinbad said slowly, not relishing the words at all. 

"Do you think this is Rumina's work?" 

"Could be. The woman does love her harpies," Sinbad sighed. He stared up at the sky, thinking about the hordes of them she'd set on them when they'd assaulted her fortress on Skull Island a few weeks earlier. Then he shrugged and smiled, and his voice was strong and confident again. He patted his brother's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Doubar. I'll stand watch and think. Like I said to Maeve, whatever mystery befalls us, we'll face it better in the light."

"I hope you're right about that," Doubar grumbled, but he shuffled below deck and left Sinbad to the ponder the open sky and his own thoughts for a time until Ahmed came up from belowdecks to relieve him. 

***

In the morning, one of the longboats was missing. 

"Maeve - " Firouz came stumbled onto the deck, his words twisting together in a tangle, holding something out towards Sinbad. "She's gone. She- she left this note. For you." 

Sinbad grabbed at the sheet of parchment, stared at it fiercely for a moment, his face darkening with anger.

"Little brother, what does it say?" Doubar asked. 

In answer, Sinbad, crumpled the parchment into a ball and thrust it into his brother's hands. "She left us. I told her not to. I ORDERED her not to. Why did she do this?" The question hung uncomfortably in the air, the tension suddenly thick and cloying. No one dared speak. Sinbad turned away from them and faced the ocean. "She says what we saw last night - is what in her native land, they call a fetch."

"A doppelgänger," Firouz amended helpfully. "A double. Seeing it is a bad omen. A sign of death in most cultures, really." 

"But why would she leave us?" Sinbad gripped the edge of the deck, his whole body projecting his outrage. 

"She thinks she's in danger and that she can spare us from if she's not around," Firouz said. "I think that's her strategy, anyway."

"How are we supposed to protect her if she's left us?" Sinbad said, through gritted teeth. He was still facing the ocean, not looking at any of them. This time it wasn't clear if he expected anyone to answer. 

"What if she doesn't want us to protect her?" Doubar's question hung in the air. Once it was said there was no going back. 

"We're going after her--"

"Sinbad--"

"That's an order!" A pause. Then, more calmly, "Prepare the other longboat."

The three men looked at each other, looked at their captain, looked at each other again, and did as they were bid. No one said anything else after that.


	3. Chapter 3

"He's like a man possessed," Doubar groused as he strode through the bustling marketplace. Firouz and Rongar, a step or two behind on either side, had to dodge the first mate's extravagant hand gestures that punctuated his speech, a sign of how badly out of sorts he was. As they passed buildings with pale white walls and deep blue rooftops, fabric tents and legions of vendors touting every kind of merchandise under the sun, they could have been in any port city throughout the Mediterranean or Arabian seas. 

_What is the point of traveling if every place we go to looks pretty much the same?_ Firouz wondered absently, even though he knew that wasn't really true. This town didn't stink nearly as much as the last one, for starters. 

"Er, well, it is Maeve, after all," Firouz said aloud in response to Doubar. Rongar nodded in agreement. "I think he wants to make sure she's all right. Last night wasn't - well - a good omen, really." 

"I didn't think you believed in omens, Firouz." Doubar stopped to let a man leading a donkey go by, shouting a few choice insults as the two passed by. He wasn't really angry at them, but Doubar wasn't very good at hiding his feelings, and coped by finding an outlet for his frustrations with every unlucky soul who crossed his path. Firouz, walking in his wake, usually found himself apologizing as he went to stave off any brawls. It might help Doubar's temper, but it was highly unlikely to achieve their objective. 

"I don't. But you saw the harpy last night, Doubar. You saw how it transformed into Maeve! You can understand why that might be - upsetting for her." 

"Aye. And I don't like it one bit. I wish she hadn't left us. But that's no reason for _Sinbad_ to lose his head now that she's gone." 

Rongar shrugged, rolled his eyes, and put his hands over his heart with a momentarily angelic expression. 

"Point taken," said Firouz to Rongar. "Yes, well -" Firouz was at a loss for what to else to say to Doubar that he hadn't already said with every iteration of this particular rant since they had left the _Nomad_ 's deck this morning. "Keep your eyes open. Maybe someone here has seen a woman with a hawk. She does - er, have a way of standing out in a crowd." 

They all knew it probably wasn't going to be that easy. A cloak over her distinctive red hair and Dermott aloft, and she would blend into the background, even with her fair skin - assuming she hadn't used magic to disguise herself. She'd vanished into the night, when most honest folk were in bed asleep. The odds of anyone in the city seeing her - not to mention the odds of finding that person - were bleak. 

But the captain had ordered them to look for her, so look for her they would. And if they failed to find her - which they probably would - it would not be a pleasant rendezvous for any of them. 

Doubar looked up at the sky. "It's almost noon. We're supposed to meet Sinbad back at the tavern by the docks soon. And there's no sign of her. It's like she's vanished into thin air!" 

"Maybe she did." Firouz considered the notion intently. "In which case, the absence of evidence itself could be a clue. But how do we distinguish that from failing to find her trail?" 

Rongar, who was the only one of the crew besides Sinbad who was skilled at actual tracking, rolled his eyes again. 

_Fascinating how much information can be conveyed without language,_ Firouz mused to himself. Rongar could use sign language but rarely bothered for anything that wasn't abstract or removed from the circumstances at hand. In any event, the message was clear: _Stay focused on the facts, Firouz. Don't overthink this._

Suddenly, Firouz felt something tug at his shoulder. He put his hand on his sword instinctively as he turned, but it was an elderly woman, wrapped in enough layers it was hard to make out her features. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I've seen you strangers walk by my booth three times now. Are you looking for something?" 

"We're looking for a friend. She's lost. We - we don't know where to find her. Have you -" 

"Oh! You must go ask the oracle! The oracle will help you find your friend!" 

"Well, that's not - that's very - er, thank you," Firouz stammered. He wondered how to explain that he, as a man of science, did not believe in oracles without hurting her feelings. Best to play along, he decided. "Where can we find this oracle?" 

The old woman pointed up towards the hill above town, where they could see white columns shining in the distance on the cliffs above the the sea. "Just keep heading up. On those rocky cliffs. There's a temple up there where you can make an offering to the oracle and have your question answered." 

"Thank you! Thank you very much! We'll go do that. Doubar, Rongar, this way!" he called, and lead his two friends off in the direction the old woman had pointed. 

"Firouz, what's all this about?" Doubar said, panting to stay at his heels. 

"We're going to ask the local oracle to tell us where Maeve is." The woman was still in earshot. Now that he'd said it aloud, it was starting to seem like a good idea. At least it was someplace different to look. And who knows, maybe there would be answers... 

There was a pause while Doubar digested this. "I thought you didn't believe in oracles," he said finally. 

"I don't. But we've combed the market three times now and there's been no sign of her. Besides, do you have any better ideas?"

Rongar shrugged, shook his head and spread his arms wide to indicate his acceptance of the new plan. 

"I hope it's not too far uphill," was all Doubar said, as the three men began climbing upward.

***

It was past noon and the crew was late, because of course they were. Sinbad was in a foul mood, and the atmosphere inside the tavern where they'd agreed to rendezvous wasn't helping. It was tempting to buy as many rounds as he could of whatever foul brew they served here and drown himself in an alcholic stupor - that or break a few heads. While his purse could certainly handle the expense, brawling was a luxury he could ill afford if he was actually going to find Maeve. Still, if his men didn't show up soon, it was going to get ugly. It was already ugly enough as it was. 

He left the tavern and walked along the docks, one hand on the hilt of his sword, reflexively looking out for pickpockets as he went so that the rest of his mind was focused on the problem at hand. The sea rose and swelled against the docks - low tide, now - and the stench of salt water, sweat and dead fish were everywhere. 

He stared out at the water towards the edge of the harbor, where the _Nomad_ bobbed in the distance like a bright cork. He'd had Ali bring the ship in just close enough so they didn't have to row too far, and but far enough to avoid docking and port fees. All the bureaucracy of trade that he was normally good at it but this wasn't a planned stop and he didn't have time for bullshit. Not now. Not when he had to look for - 

_Maeve..._

If she'd been kidnapped, it would have been one thing. He would have been electrified, all systems flooded with adrenaline, ready to go. It would have been a crisis, but one he could _solve_ : find out where she was, sail in, fight, rescue her. It was what he did all the time, honestly. Rescuing damsels in distress didn't happen every day, but it paid well when it did, and he never turned it down. 

He never thought he'd find himself praying for Maeve to have been kidnapped, but life took you on strange journeys sometimes. Clearly, this was one of them now... 

But unless there was more to this than initially met the eye, Maeve had almost certainly left of her own free will. He hadn't ruled out the possibility that she'd written the note under duress, but his instincts and their exchange the previous evening all screamed to him that this was an inside job. And that note... 

The note itself was short and to the point, written on a scrap sheet of parchment in Maeve's flowing script. She'd used Latin letters instead of Arabic ones, as was her wont. The words were burned into his mind as if with a hot knife and he choked with rage when he recalled them. 

_Sinbad,_

_I'm leaving the ship. I can't stay here. What we saw on the deck tonight was no ordinary monster - it was a demon, what in my land we call a fetch. It means my death unless I can escape it and I must go to great lengths if I am to survive. I know you mean well, but only magic can save me now. I hope you can understand._

_I'm sorry._

_Maeve_

There were a few blotches and smears that could have been tears - probably that was him being fanciful. Why would she cry over this? Probably she'd just smeared the ink and hadn't gone to the trouble of rewriting it. 

He knew he was being petulant, he knew he was being unfair, but he couldn't stop himself: it was like watching someone else stumble down a long, self-destructive road of self-pity and he couldn't fight it right now, any more than he could fight gravity. He needed someone like Dim-Dim to get him out of this dangeous mood so he coud think clearly - but Dim-Dim was gone, gone beyond all hope of contact. He needed Maeve here to - 

"Why, Maeve...? Why couldn't you wait for me? We could solve this together. We're a team. We help each other. Right? Right? .... Why couldn't you wait for me?" 

A familiar cry split the air above him, and the seagulls scattered suddenly in a furious fluster of wingbeats. He looked up, hardly daring to hope. "Dermott!" he yelled, with a force he hadn't known was in him, reaching out his left hand to the soaring bird as he had seen Maeve do so often when she wanted him to land. "Dermott, it's me, Sinbad, please --!" 

With another cry, Dermott dove and landed solidly on the pier next to him, ignorning his outstretched hand. At any other time, Sinbad would have been irritated by the rebuke, but he was so happy to see Dermott, all other emotions seem eclipsed. Besides, the hawk had very sharp talons and Sinbad wasn't wearing a gauntlet the way Maeve always did when she did that particular maneuver. 

"Dermott - I'm so glad to see you! Where have you been!" Probably the hawk wouldn't like him up so close in his face like this, and yet he couldn't stop pressing up to the bird, babbling like a lunatic. Some dam within him had been burst, and it all spilled out in a jumble at Dermott, who cocked his head and stared at him intently. 

He and Dermott had gotten off to a rough start. The hawk had flown at Sinbad when he walked along on the beach of the Isle of Dawn, looking for his old teacher, Dim-Dim. Next thing he knew, he was sprawled out on the beach and Maeve was looming over him, a drawn sword in her hand. Dim-Dim had sent her to fetch Sinbad and bring him to the old man's dwelling, but it'd taken Sinbad a long time to shake off his prejudices after their unsettling first encounter and Maeve's testiness definitely hadn't helped. 

It quickly became clear, however, that Dermott was no ordinary bird. He and Maeve had a rapport that went beyond any falcon and falconer that Sinbad had ever seen throughout his travels. Dermott didn't even _look_ like any hawk that Sinbad had ever seen. And it became increasingly clear as he watched the two of them that Maeve treated Dermott as if he were human. And although Sinbad had privately considered her crazy at first, he quickly realized that Dermott understood human speech, and responded with a will of his own. Sinbad would swear the bird had a perverse sense of humor, and enjoyed messing with the crew when it suited him, particularly Firouz. 

Not only that: Maeve could see out of Dermott's eyes, use him to guide the crew, exchange messages. Dermott had saved their lives several dozen times over - most recently when he'd risked his life to deliver the Gryphon's Egg jewel to the sorceress Rumina's lair, completely obliterating it in a fiery explosion.

And then there'd been that day several months ago on a beach when Dermott had flown up to him, and suddenly Sinbad had seen Doubar's face in his mind - seen Doubar tied to a stake, both hands bound, crying out in pain. And then, not long after, Dermott had arrived out of nowhere, and he'd heard Maeve's voice in his mind, Maeve's face floating in front of him, warning him of lies and treachery (which were proven to be true shortly thereafterwards). 

If Dermott were here, he could find Maeve. She couldn't be far. She wouldn't leave Dermott behind. -Would she? 

She'd left _him_ after all. And the crew. He felt a sour taste in his mouth, that warred with hope. He didn't know what Maeve would do anymore. But it was the only lead he had. 

"Dermott, can you take me to Maeve? Show me where Maeve is." 

He reached out to the hawk, attempting to stroke the soft downy feathers of his breast the way that he'd often seen Maeve do. The hawk bore it for a moment, before shying away and launching into the air with a cry - away - and then swirling back around, as if waiting for Sinbad to follow. 

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Sinbad yelled after him, momentarily annoyed in spite of himself. He set off along the docks, following the hawk who soared above him in the open sky. _Maeve, I'm coming. Whatever monster is stalking you, we'll take it down together. I promise._

Maeve had left because she wanted to protect him. Because she didn't think he could protect himself, let alone _her_. Well, she was wrong. He'd show her. He'd save her and then life would go back to normal. He'd show her. He'd show her. 

He just had to find her first.

****

He ran along the beach, dodging the boulders that jutted up out of the sand, his attention split between keeping his footing and not losing sight of the tiny distance speck of Dermott in the distance. He'd left the port and the town that surrounded it what felt like hours ago, and even though he knew he could make his way back eventually, he was fully committed to this chase now, as crazy as it probably was, and he wouldn't turn back. 

Hell, he'd done crazier things in the past and survived. Following a bird to locate a missing crewmember wouldn't even make the top ten list of crazy, actually. 

The crew was probably at the tavern by now, wondering what the hell had happened to them - _well, serves them right for not being back in time,_ he thought uncharitably. Doubar would probably run up a huge tab and start that bar fight that Sinbad had so virtuously restrained himself from, and there'd be hell to pay when he got back, but he was so far beyond caring about anything else but Maeve right now. If he found her, they'd laugh, maybe hug a bit, quarrel a bit (because it _was_ Maeve, after all, and she couldn't just take a nice gesture of concern from him without snarking about it first). 

Still - he stopped for a moment, panting, as Dermott circled back to keep in his sight. At moments like these, he wished he could fly - and not in one of Firouz's contraptions, either. He wished he could just soar over the obstacles like Dermott did and get to the good part. The part where he found Maeve. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dermott stoop, the hawk crying out, as if he'd found something - and abruptly vanishing behind some distant dunes. 

"All right, Dermott, I'm coming!" Sinbad yelled, and set off again at a trot. _Maybe it's Maeve. Maybe he found Maeve. Maybe I found her, we can argue a bit, and then go back home to the Nomad -_

He was tempted to strike a dramatic pose as he cleared the top of the dunes, but he wasn't prepared for the sight that met his eyes when he did. "What the--?" His feet slipped and he tumbled down the steep slope in a clumsy tangle of arms and legs, shuddering to a halt in an impact that knocked all the breath from his lungs and turned his vision to black. 

***

Sunlight stung his eyes. He blinked, confused as to where and when he was. There was sand everywhere - in his hair, in his eyes, in his mouth. He was lying on sand. In the distance, he could hear the roar of the sea. 

A shadow blocked his vision. He couldn't see any details, just the outline of a woman with a hawk perched on her arm, standing above him. 

For a second, he saw Maeve's face, just as it had been when they first met back on that beach on the Isle of Dawn. For a moment, he dared to hope. "Maeve?" he croaked, choking on the grit lodged in his mouth and throat. He spat out what he could, coughed, looked back up at the woman again.

His vision cleared. There was a woman there, with Dermott on her arm, but it wasn't Maeve. It was someone he'd never seen before. She was tan and fit, dressed in a simple yellow outfit that left her arms and throat bare. She wore no veil. Her dark hair was long and straight, and a thick coil of white rope was slung across her shoulder. 

"The name's Bryn," she said. "And we better get going. They're coming."


	4. Chapter 4

It was not, Sinbad had to admit, his finest moment. "W-what?" he stammered at the woman leaning over him. He'd been so certain Dermott was leading him right to Maeve - that he would see her again at any moment - that it took a second for his mind to catch up with his circumstances and process the situation with his usual poise. 

He'd certainly never seen Dermott - _Dermott_ , for heavens' sake! - act this friendly to anyone but Maeve. _What the hell is going on here-?_ "Dermott?" he ventured, stretching a hand out towards the hawk. 

The woman looked down at the hawk on her arm, then back at Sinbad. "Is this your bird? He's been following me for quite some time now. Trying to get my attention. Like he was leading me somewhere. Then he flew away and I didn't see him for a while - and then he came back and now you're here." She poked a toe at the leather gauntlet tucked under Sinbad's belt, which he'd brought to return to Maeve when they found her. She'd left it in her cabin, along with the note... 

Along with the note... 

His insides twisted up. What if she'd intentionally left the gauntlet behind? What if she'd never planned to take Dermott with her at all? 

But what the hell was Dermott doing _here_ of all places - ? 

He wrested his attention back to the present moment. He couldn't afford to fall apart right now, and anyway, the woman was talking again. "He seems like a good creature, but I'm kinda in a hurry, so if he's yours, you should take him back," the woman was saying, thrusting the arm with Dermott towards him. 

Sinbad shook his head, and slowly dragged himself to his feet, rubbing away at the sand that was suddenly everywhere in his clothes. "His name's Dermott. He's not mine. He belong to a friend of mine. She's gone missing. I'm out looking for her. I saw Dermott and I thought - " 

"Oh. Sorry. I - anyway, can you just take him? I really have to get going." 

Sinbad instinctively reached out his hand towards Dermott, but before he could get close, the hawk took off with a cry and soared into the air. Out of reach. Sinbad watched him go with puzzlement. What the hell was the hawk playing at with this? 

The woman - Bryn, right? - was already jogging away over the sand up the side of the next dune. "Hey!" he said, following her. "Who's after you?" 

She paused for a moment, and turned to look back in the direction they'd come. Something about her body language made Sinbad do the same. 

He didn't see anything, but he heard a howl and the skin on the back of his neck prickled. 

"You don't want to know," Bryn said grimly. 

"I have a feeling I'm about to find out." 

"Not if we keep going. Come on!" 

Not knowing what else to do - and really not liking the sound of whatever was following them - he complied. 

 

***

Once Doubar, Rongar and Firouz reached the wide marble steps that marked the temple entrance at the top of the cliffs, they paused for a moment to admire the view. 

"It's breathtaking!" Firouz exclaimed with delight, shielding his eyes with one hand as he surveyed the panorama before them.

"In more ways than one," Doubar said. He was still puffing from the climb and self-conscious about it, so Firouz pretended not to notice. 

"You can see the town, the harbor - " Firouz craned his neck to the side to get the full picture. " - and all the way down the island!" He wished he'd brought the magniscope with him. 

Beside him, Rongar stirred and the leather satchel with the magniscope appeared out of nowhere at Firouz's elbow. "Rongar! How did you get that up here? I didn't see you carrying it!" 

Rongar smiled, content for the matter to remain a mystery. He seemed to enjoy anticipating Firouz's thoughts and surprising him whenever possible. For Firouz, who prided himself on logic and reason, these quiet deductions, presented without any fuss or fanfare whatsoever, were simultaneously flattering and maddening. For Rongar, who'd been trained as a warrior and assassin since childhood, it was an exercise to keep his senses appropriately sharpened. The startled looks on Firouz's face each time were their own reward. 

"Thank you," Firouz said quietly. Rongar patted him on the back and gestured for him to look out with the magniscope. In an instant, Firouz had the satchel open and the magniscope in hand, scanning the horizon in earnest. "Well, there's the _Nomad_ down there!" 

"Any chance you can spy our quarry with that thing?" Doubar asked, abruptly returning to the matter at hand, though clearly not happy about it. 

"Not at this resolution," Firouz said, fiddling with some dials on the magniscope's side. "One day, I hope to talk to a lensmaker about getting some different kinds of glass made so I can _see_ a little more clearly with this thing without having to make so many adjustments to compensate for the distance-" 

As he expected, Doubar had all but tuned out the explanation. Firouz sighed. Rongar, as usual, appreciated his discussion of optics, but now was clearly not the time to antagonize Doubar, even inadvertently. It had been a rough morning.

Rongar tapped Firouz's shoulder, pointing inland, just as Doubar exclaimed, "There's smoke on the horizon! Something's on fire! We should sound an alarm!" 

"That smoke is from the sacred fires of the temple of Baal," said a feminine voice behind them. The three men turned to see a young woman, with thick curly hair, clad in a modest white chiton and sandals. "They've lit the fires for a sacrifice this morning." 

"Must be a really big fire then, if we can see the smoke all the way from here," Doubar said. 

The girl nodded. "You are here to see the oracle, I presume." It wasn't really a question. 

Firouz nodded, admiring the poise and self-possession - and, somehow, peace - that radiated out from her like a small sun. 

"We're looking for a friend. Maeve. Red-haired. Carrying a hawk. Left our ship this morning," Doubar said. "Have you seen her?" 

She smiled, a mysterious Sphinx-like expression on her face. "The oracle wil help you find your friend. Come with me."

She lead them up the temple steps through a maze of corridors and paths, past other white-robed acolytes who hurried past them on urgent errands, and in an antechamber lined with reclining couches. "Wait here." and left. 

"Now what?" Doubar said. 

"We wait. And clear our minds. And try to ask the right questions. The questions we _really_ want answered, not the ones we _think_ we want. There's an art to this." 

"I thought you didn't believe in oracles?" 

Firouz shrugged. He didn't know how to explain this sort of thing to Doubar. Hadn't his beloved Master Dim-Dim ever read him bedtime stories? Sinbad would know about this sort of thing. "I didn't say it was a science. Oracles show up in legends all the time. They're supposed to be the direct voices of the gods, as opposed to a seer or a fortune-teller, who has to use some kind of object for divination. They speak in riddles." 

"What do you mean?" 

Firouz decided for the blunt approach. "They'll bring us into the room with a priestess, who will be seriously high on volcano fumes, she'll speak in verse to us, something generic that can mean _anything_ , and we'll go back to town and tell Sinbad we tried." 

"Why are we here if you already know what the answer is going to be?" 

A fair question, but one he really didn't feel like answering again. "I'll try searching again with the magniscope on the way out. Maybe I'll spot her." 

Doubar looked like he was about to say something, but a different acolyte - a young man, tall and limber, also dressed in a white chiton and sandals - entered. 

"The oracle will see you now," he said. 

****

Sinbad had forgotten how _hard_ it was to run on loose, dry sand as he scrambled across the dunes after Bryn. Fortunately, it wasn't long before they left the coastal scrub behind and came into more open territory. 

Unfortunately, that was also when their pursuers burst into view. 

They weren't human, but Sinbad had expected that from the cries. A half-dozen hounds crested the ridge behind them, but these were no ordinary canine coursers. They had four legs and a tail and a mouth full of teeth, but instead of hair, they were reptilian and scaly, glistening silver in the bright sunlight. They bayed and bellowed as they swept down the last dune, their eyes gleaming red with black pupils. 

Ahead of them loomed jagged clusters of pale rock, islands in a sea of low-lying evergreen shrubs. If they could make it to one of those - with Bryn's rope - maybe they could climb up it - 

Ahead of him, Bryn cried out as she stumbled and fell. Sinbad stopped when he reached her, his eyes flickering back between the tall rocks in the distance and the monsters that were gaining on them. _No more time._ He drew his sword out and faced the monsters, and settled into a fighting stance. 

"Run!" Bryn shouted. "They're after me! Save yourself!" 

"Like hell I am," Sinbad yelled back, just as the first hound charged him. 

Time slowed to a crawl. He swung, which the creature hadn't expected, and there was a sickening crunch as Sinbad's sword hit the monster squarely on the head, and it squealed and fell to the ground like a bag of rocks. One down. He couldn't rest on his laurels for more than a second before another wheeled and dived at him - but just one. As long as they came at him one by one, he could take them. He swung again, hitting the second beast on the side, and it staggered back but kept coming. 

(Meanwhile, he was vaguely aware of Bryn getting to her feet, snatching a rock off the ground and slamming it into another hound, who screamed and stumbled from the blow. She hit it again and again until the red gleam in its eyes dimmed and faded. Glad she wasn't helpless, whoever the hell she was.)

He eventually dispatched the second creature, leaving only three on the field still standing. He began backing away slowly, his drawn sword holding them at bay - only for two of them to charge him at once - 

_Evidently they'd learned from the mistakes of their companions-_

Even as he prepared to duck, so that he wouldn't be where they thought he was, and perhaps they'd hurt each other before they realized his mistake - he realized he might not be able to pull it off. But he was out of ideas and there wasn't time for anything else - 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bryn staring at them, hands dangling uselessly by her side, too far away to be of use, her mouth open in a cry. Her eyes flashed yellow - 

-and suddenly, the two beasts were no longer there. Vanished completely. As if by magic. 

What the hell was he kidding. He knew magic when he saw it. That was _totally_ magic. 

Time resumed its normal flow. Sinbad staggered forward, his sword out, ready to hit the last monster, but it backed away with a pitiful whine, turned tail, and ran back the way it had come. 

"Thanks," Bryn said, suddenly at his side, helping him up. He thanked her, and put his sword away." 

"So that's it, right? You're free now," he said breezily, wondering even as he did so who the hell she was and what kind of power she had to do the kind of magic she had just done. 

He'd only ever seen Rumina do something like this - just make someone vanish completely. It wasn't really a technique that good magicians, in his experience at least, ever practiced. But she didn't _feel_ evil. He trusted his gut on this one more than he did his eyes. 

Appearances could be deceptive. Rumina had taken on many forms when it suited her (including, on one memorable occasion, his own). But his gut had a much better track record on this sort of thing, and Dermott _had_ led him to her, after all. Dermott seemed to trust her, too. That had to count for something, right? 

Bryn was ignoring him, staring in the direction the monsters had come. "No. There will be others soon. They won't let me get away so easily." She grabbed his arm. "Come on!" 

***

It wasn't until they'd used the rope to haul themselves up on top of the rock ridge that she paused for a rest. Normally, it was a precaution that Sinbad would have dismissed had he not seen the sort of creatures they were apparently up against. Unless those monsters could fly, the two of them were safe. Trapped, perhaps, but safe enough for the moment. 

"What the HELL were those things?" Sinbad wanted to know as soon as they were settled. 

"I don't know, exactly. Nothing good." 

"Why are they after you?" 

"As I'm a stranger, a woman and well - they called me a witch -" 

"I saw you use magic back there." 

"Yes, it's not something I know how to control. When my life is in danger, things just-- happen." 

"Bet they didn't like that." 

She laughed. "No, they didn't. They wanted to burn me alive as a sacrifice to their god . I said, 'no, thanks' but some people just can't take no for an answer." 

"I know the feeling." He thought about his own brushes with public execution, lying on the chopping block in the central market of Baghdad, seconds away from beheading. Thankfully, Doubar and Mustapha had burst in just time. And then there'd been that night with pirate queen Talia, the Black Rose of Oman, in a iron cage, waiting to be devoured by a giant spider - 

"You look like a law abiding citizen," she said, her eyebrows raised. He couldn't tell if she was joking. 

"I'm a sailor. When you're a stranger, it's easy to get on the wrong side of the law. Especially if someone wants to set you up to begin with." 

"Yes," she agreed, staring out at the sky. He looked, but he saw no sign of the hounds or whatever the hell those creatures were ... and no sign of Dermott, either. 

"My name is Sinbad," he said finally, not knowing what else to say but feeling the need to keep her talking.

"You said you were looking for a friend." 

"Yes." Now it was his turn to be suddenly weary. "Maeve." 

"And the hawk is Dermott." 

"Yes." 

"That's an unusual name for a hawk. Like he's a person." 

"He's like family to her," Sinbad said. "She's so protective of him. I don't know why he's so calm without her." 

"What happened to her?" 

"I don't know. A harpy attacked my ship last night and she just... vanished." 

Bryn was clearly intrigued, but preoccupied enough with her own situation to make no comment. She reached up to brush back a strand of hair that had come loose in the scuffle, and something flashed a metallic gleam in the light. He saw then what he'd noticed Dermott sitting on but hadn't had time to process: a rainbow bracelet around her left wrist, identical to his own. 

"Wait. That bracelet." 

She was suddenly on edge. "What about it?" she said, dropping her arm abruptly. 

"Do you remember where you got it?" 

She shook her head. 

Sinbad held up his left arm so she could see the rainbow bracelet clasped tightly around his own wrist. "Me neither. But, let me guess. There was a storm. You thought there was no hope. But then, you awoke in a strange place. You were safe. You had the bracelet on. That's what happened to me, anyway." 

Bryn got up, clearly agitated. "I don't know what happened. There could have been a storm. I don't remember. It's all jumbled together, like a dream. I know I awoke on this island a few days ago. But I can’t remember anything else... except my name. I don’t know who I am or where I came from."

Sinbad frowned. The only other person he'd ever met with a rainbow bracelet had been Tetsu, a masterless samurai, or ronin, from Nippon, who had also been mysteriously shipwrecked - and saved - by forces unknown. But Tetsu had retained his memory and his past, as had Sinbad, though they'd each lost two years of their life in the process. Had a similar thing happened to Bryn? 

He got to his feet. "Well, you’re here. Maeve’s gone. My old teacher, Dim-Dim, always told me that everything has its purpose. I pray that he was right." 

She stared out in the distance, silent, an unreadable expression on her face. 

"We have to find Maeve and get out of here as soon as possible." More silence. "We'll start heading back towards my ship, get you away from whoever wants you dead. We can find Maeve. She's got to be here somewhere, I know it."

He reached his hand out to her, the one with the bracelet, placing it where she would see it, but not forcing her to accept it. He waited. She hesitated for a moment, then took it gingerly. He put his other hand on her shoulder, gently squeezed and then let go as they prepared to set off again. 

***

Firouz was surprised to learn that the famous Oracle was none other than the mysterious woman they'd encountered on the temple steps. He knew he showed his surprise on his face (he wasn't good at hiding his feelings), and he saw her smile as she took note of it before she reverted back to the inscrutable expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to an Egyptian sphinx. 

Doubar was clearly annoyed by this revelation. "You didn't tell us you were the Oracle!" 

"You didn't ask." She turned away, dismissing the matter, and began to pace back and forth across the empty marble chamber. Smoke wafted through a hole in the floor where a fire burned, separating the three men from her. "What is your question for me?" 

"We're looking for our friend, Maeve," Doubar said before Firouz could speak. "Where is she? How do we find her?" 

"Turok's daughter will lead you to her," the Oracle said without breaking her stride. She paced back and forth, breathing deeply as she walked through the smoky haze. 

Firouz coughed. Someone had put incense in the fire and it was making his nose and throat itch like crazy. He desperately hoped he wouldn't sneeze. 

"Turok's daughter - Rumina? But she's dead!" Doubar cried out, unable to believe what he was hearing. Rongar's eyes widened - he was surprised, too, and not particularly pleased by this revelation. 

The oracle smiled and actually paused in her pacing for a moment. "Well, you're unlikely to find your friend, then." She resumed her perambulation around the chamber. 

"Actually," Firouz said, his mind racing, "we don't actually _know_ Rumina is dead. I mean, we didn't see a body. We just saw the explosion... from rather far away." 

"But no one could have survived that!" 

"Maybe." Logic told him that Rumina should have died, but then, witches were notoriously difficult to kill. And there was no direct evidence to support the theory she _had_ died, either. 

"When I get my hands on that witch, I will tear her apart myself, I swear it. She's caused enough trouble for us-" 

"Doubar, we don't know that Rumina is behind this - " Firouz started to say, but as he thought about it, he realized that the sorceress was, in fact, the most likely cause of their travails, if she was in face alive. Rumina hated Maeve - hated all of them, really - but Maeve in particular. She'd used harpies before to kidnap people. It wasn't so far-fetched that she would be the cause of all the trouble if she'd survived the destruction of Skull Island a few months ago. 

Doubar, too, had come to the same conclusion. "How else would Rumina know where Maeve is?"

The Oracle watched this exchange with wry amusement. When she spoke again, though, her voice had no mirth in it. "Doubar. You've been given a great gift, but you won't be able to hold it for long. And you'll give it away freely in the service of what matters most." 

She turned to Firouz. "Firouz." He stared at her, some how drawn to make eye contact, intimate and terrible, all the while wishing he could look away. "Be careful not to rub people the wrong way. Once you've gotten a djinn out of the bottle, it's hard to get him back in." 

_What?_ But she was already addressing Rongar. "Rongar. You cannot avoid your people forever. Yes, you've suffered - but are you going to use that as an excuse not to help them when they need you the most?" 

Rongar staggered back, as if she'd struck him, and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. No sound came out. 

Doubar took a step forward, his arm raised. "Now, see here--" 

She held up a hand and he stopped in his tracks. "I know you have more questions for me, but I don't think now is the right time to ask them. Your captain needs you." 

"Sinbad!" Firouz exclaimed. "Where? What--"

She pointed out in the direction they'd come. "Where there's smoke, there's fire. And where there's fire, you'll find Captain Sinbad." 

"Come on!" Doubar shouted, and turned away towards the exit. Firouz didn't need any prompting. There was something especially unnerving about the Oracle - her aura of total certainty, the unsettling comments she'd made, the reaction Rongar had had to what she'd said - 

Rongar jerked up at Doubar's voice, but he didn't move. He just stared at the Oracle for a long moment, one hand clutching at a knife on the bandolier on his chest, as if he wasn't sure whether or not to throw. The Oracle bore his gaze calmly, facing him across the fire, her expression unreadable. 

"Rongar, come on!" Firouz shouted and the spell was broken. Rongar bowed, ever so slightly, at the Oracle - who nodded in return - and set off after his crewmates at a run. 

"Well, that wasn't at all what I expected," Firouz said as they burst out of the temple into the daylight. The smoky blur they'd noticed on the horizon was even more prominent now. You didn't even need the magniscope to see it. 

Doubar pointed at it. "What are you two waiting for? Come on! She must have meant Sinbad is down there!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad and Bryn's exchange about the origins of their respective rainbow bracelets has several lines more or less verbatim from a similar scene in "The Sacrifice," as is Sinbad's line quoting Dim-Dim that everything happens for a reason, because I really like how this was handled in canon.


	5. Chapter 5

The High Priest of Baal Moloch had been born with a name of his own, but he surrendered it to his god when he was initiated into the priesthood and now he was only known as the High Priest. He had no regrets. He had only been called to surrender his name; others had been required to sacrifice so much more. 

Baal was a harsh god, but he was also a just, beneficient god, and their city had flourished under rule of their wise leaders and - equally important - the steady stream of sacrifices officiated in the temple. Other gods asked for meat or milk, wine or water, smoke or repentance. Baal only asked for human flesh and fire. 

It was the High Priest's solemn and sacred duty to make sure Baal Moloch got what he needed so His chosen city would prosper. 

In the old days, only the sons of the most illustrious families had been chosen for this honor, going willingly to their deaths in service of their city. Lately, however, as the city's population expanded rapidly, and it had become far more efficient to purchase children who would otherwise be burden to their parents and keep them at the temple until the appointed days. 

However, rumors had spread through the city in the last few days of a strange woman, dressed in yellow, with mysterious powers. There had been talk of miracles - spontaneous healings, rescued items, petty thefts foiled, comeuppance to those who needed it. Most of it was utter nonsense, of course, but what mattered was that the people _believed_. And it would not do for Baal Moloch to lose prestige to a foreign witch-woman. Not at all. So the High Priest had sent out word to the city guard to collect this woman and bring her to the temple to see for himself. 

Things had not gone as he had planned. 

Oh, they found her all right. The guards had dragged her in, unconscious, her hands bound behind her back with long, thick coils of rope. It was too long, really, so they'd wrapped it around her body so that she wouldn't trip over it as they dragged her along. She was covered with the filth and dust of the city, but, the High Priest surmised, not unattractive for all that. 

She was a worthy sacrifice. Baal would be pleased. 

It took several hours to get the fire just right and it was essential for the High Priest to oversee the proceedings to make sure everything was done just so. So he didn't know until he heard shouts from the guards that something was wrong, and by then it was too late. She had awoken, burst free from her bonds somehow, and escaped, killing at least two guards on her way out. By the time the High Priest returned, she had vanished. 

He sent out the guards again to find her - but quietly. He did not want word to get out that their chosen sacrifice had escaped. Baal could not be bested so easily. Then he went down to the kennels at the base of the temple complex - right next to the compound that held the children, it was easier to keep them from escaping that way - and ordered the chimeras out to seek for her, too, in case the men were unsuccessful. They belled up at him, snapping at his heels as they followed him up to the room where the woman had lain, noses eagerly pressed to the ground to catch the scent. 

"Go," he told them. "Seek her out. Lead my men to her. Do not fail." 

And they obeyed, streaming out the door and down the temple steps as the cityfolk pressed themselves against walls and carts in terror as they passed. The hunt was on, and though it was bad luck that the woman had escaped in the first place, perhaps the situation could still be salvaged. He went back to to attend the fire. 

So he was less than pleased when the guards staggered back a few hours later, a whining, shaking chimera dragging at their heels. 

"H-high Priest," a young guard stammered. "The chimeras f-found her, but she killed all but one and escaped. We returned to await your orders." He was trembling in terror - as well he should, for the High Priest was not in a forgiving mood. 

The High Priest stalked forward. In contrast to the fires of Baal, he was cold, solid, unreadable. His fury was dampened, channeled into implacable, unmistakeable force. 

There was no need for him to shout. In the wake of the guard's confession, the entire room held its breath. 

"Find her. Take more men and do not return unless you return with her. The chimera can follow her trail." He turned away, the matter closed. 

"B-but my lord priest-" 

He turned. "Or shall Baal take your children instead?" 

The guards couldn't refuse a direct order from the priest - no one could - but as he intended, his threat moved them solidly back into the realm of obedience. "O-of course, lord priest - we obey - " and all of them dashed out with the chimera yowling as it followed. It would have been comic had the situation not been so serious. 

"She belongs to Baal," the High Priest said quietly. "And Baal will have her." 

***

"So, let me get this straight," Sinbad said as he and Bryn jogged through the undergrowth. Bryn was explaining to him what had befallen her in the few days since she'd awoken on the island. "The people saw your magic in action, word got around, and the priest of Baal came after you to burn you alive as sacrifice to their god. They sent those creatures after you when you escaped."

"Yeah, that's about right," Bryn said, panting. She was in good shape considering what she'd been through already, but it was hot, and they needed to find a spring soon if they were going to make it much further without acute discomfort.

"Does this Baal always demand human sacrifice?" 

"Well, I'm not an expert, but it must be a pretty regular event, because they have a very complex and ornate set-up. I didn't get to see it for myself, but I heard rumors about it before I was captured - a giant bronze statue, with outstretched hands. The fire is located in the hands apparently."

"Charming." Sinbad ducked to one side to dodge a branch. "Who do they sacrifice when they can't get strangers?" 

She paused in mid-stride, clearly unsettled by the question. "They burn children. They take whatever poor, unwanted children are offered to them or ones they can buy as slaves, and they sacrifice them." 

Sinbad stopped. "No." 

"Sinbad, I _saw_ where they were keeping them on my way out - they were so fiercely guarded -" She looked down at her feet, her face pained. "There was no time. It was get out or die, and I didn't want to die. I couldn't save them!" 

Sinbad crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the sky, lost in thought. Dermott was nowhere to be seen. 

What the hell was he doing here, anyway? And, more importantly, what was he going to do next? 

He had to find Maeve. Figure out what had happened with that harpy. Find his crew. Go back home to the _Nomad_ and business as usual, or whatever passed for it on these voyages. 

But then he'd stumbled into Bryn, and she needed his help. If he didn't help her now, it was possible her pursuers would find her and drag her back to the temple for the sacrifice. So they had to keep going. 

But there were children in that temple. Children penned up like lambs to the slaughter. He couldn't sit back and let one of them die in Bryn's place. 

Sinbad remembered what it was like to be alone. To be scared, desperate, afraid of the dark, and completely at the mercy of the adults around you. He remembered pain. He remembered brutality. 

He looked up at Bryn. She was a strong woman, there was no doubt about that, but she shrunk back from his gaze, as if she was afraid he would strike her. Or, worse, blame her for cowardice. 

"You did the right thing," he said to Bryn. "As long as you can stay alive, there's hope." 

"I don't want anyone else to die, Sinbad!" 

He looked at the rope wrapped around her torso - the rope she'd been bound with, that she hadn't discarded in her rush to escape. He smiled. 

_Maeve - if you're out there - wherever you are - you know I can't turn away from this. But I swear I haven't forgotten you--_

Bryn frowned at him, clearly puzzled. "Sinbad, what are you--"

He cut her off by reaching out and brushing his fingers across a strand of rope from the coil wrapped around her shoulder. "Bryn. How much do you trust me?" 

*** 

"She knew our names," Firouz said, his mind still buzzing from their encounter with the Oracle. 

"She said all kinds of things about us, and you're focusing on the part about our _names_?" Doubar said incredulously. They were rushing down the stairs back to town. It was certainly faster than going up - but they still had a long way to go.

"We never mentioned our names." Firouz was trying to make a point and he wasn't going to let Doubar distract him from it. "Everything else she could have made up on the spot. Or guessed. A cold reading. That's what most fortune-tellers do. It's not real magic, it's a con art. They tell people what they want to hear." 

"What she said to me was _not_ what I wanted to hear!" 

"What she said ... felt true, though. Felt real. Compelling, somehow. I don't know what it means, but I think it's important. Rongar, what did you think?" 

Rongar shook his head. It was very clear he didn't appreciate being included in the conversation. Firouz wasn't sure how it was possible for someone who was always silent to be quieter than before, but there was a new character to Rongar's silence that hadn't been there before. Instead of wry amusement and detached observation - Rongar's default attitudes - he was distraught. Firouz had never seen anything like it before - at least not since that horrible night when their friend and companion Mustapha had died. 

"And you believed what she said about Sinbad?"

"Oh, it doesn't take magic to know that my brother's gotten into trouble again," Doubar groused. "But there was something about the way she said it -" 

"Exactly," Firouz said. They were running too fast for him to pause and check the contents of his pouches more thoroughly, but he was pretty sure he'd brought enough supplies along with him to cover the most likely options. The oracle hadn't mentioned them specifically, but he had a feeling the exploding sticks were going to come in handy once again. Especially if things were _already_ on fire--

"Doubar, if he's really at the temple, wouldn't it be faster to bring the _Nomad_ around--"

"Now who's reading minds?" 

"Logic, really. Rather than go overland - go by sea - " _Since we can't fly_ , he thought irreverently. The hanging glider wasn't really suitable for travel at that distance, but one day, perhaps, he'd figure it out--

"Last one to the harbor explains this whole mess to Sinbad!" Doubar yelled.

Firouz already knew that was going to be him, all other considerations aside. Now that they were headed downhill, the tables were reversed and Doubar was moving a lot faster than he was - and less prone to distractions. Still, he gave it his best shot. 

Rongar, as usual, won. 

*** 

When the chimera lead the city guards into the forest, they were surprised to find a handsome young man, dressed in white and blue with a red sash around his head, and a sword tucked into his waistband. Even more surprising, the man wasn't alone - he was dragging a dark-haired woman in yellow on a rope, the very one that they'd been seeking. Her hands were bound, and she was shuffling along dispiritedly, her eyes downcast and her face dusty. 

At the sight of the young man, the chimera, which had already been acting strangely, started howling and trembling and dodged back around behind the guards. One of them cuffed it, and it whimpered quietly but remained still. 

"You'd better watch that dog," the young man said coolly. "Sounds like his bark is worse than his bite!" He chuckled but none of the guards joined in the laughter. 

"Halt," said the first guard, clearly startled by the situation, but unwilling to let this stroke of luck pass them by. "Surrender your prisoner. She belongs to Baal." 

The young man smiled genially, with just a hint of teeth to it. "Of course not. Your master the High Priest was disappointed with your failure to capture this woman, and hired me, Sinbad, to retrieve her. This I have done." He made an extravagant bow. "And I will surrender her only to the High Priest of Baal himself." 

The guards looked at each other. "We heard no word of this." 

Sinbad shrugged. "D'you think the High Priest is pleased with you right now? Why would he tell _you_ anything?" 

He continued forward, yanking the rope to drag the woman along behind him. "Look, you're welcome to come with me if you like, but if you think I'm going to let you walking imbeciles trick _me_ out of the reward I was promised - you've got another thing coming." 

"Very well then," the guards shrugged. "Lead on. We'll follow." 

Sinbad shrugged and gallantly swept his hand out in front of them. "No. After you. I insist." 

The guards looked at each other sheepishly for a moment, and complied. 

They had to kick the chimera to get it to follow them, and it whined the whole way back to the city. No one knew what was wrong with it. 

"If that beast doesn't behave itself, you're going to have to put it down," Sinbad said, and the guards agreed that, yes, that was probably true. 

"Damn shame," said Sinbad, with a winning smile.


	6. Chapter 6

The gates to the city so large it took several men to open them. While their escort conferred with the gate-guards, Sinbad stepped back to Bryn, the rope hanging slack in his fists, so the two of them were level with each other. "How did you get past _that_?" Sinbad asked, out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards the gate. 

Bryn raised her eyebrows. "I went over," she said matter-of-factly. 

Sinbad nodded, clearly impressed by the athleticism such a feat required. Not only was the wall twenty feet tall and solid, with precious few hand-holds, but it was topped with an additional layer of spikes. _He_ could scale it if he had to, but it would certainly be a challenge, particularly if he was dodging armed attackers at the same time. "No wonder they think you're a witch." 

"Who knows what I am?" There was a bitterness to her tone that made Sinbad's eyes flick back to her face, scanning her carefully as if she was one of Firouz's more unstable inventions and prone to explode at any moment. "I don't remember anything before I was here, or why." 

"Well, I think you'll find traveling with me to be a pretty memorable experience," Sinbad said. It came off like a jest, but he hoped she didn't think he was mocking her; he was really just being honest with her. 

She was about to say something, but their escort chose that moment to gesture them forwards, so Sinbad had to jerk Bryn forward with the rope with a mock curse at her for her slowness so they wouldn't get suspicious. It didn't hurt her, but it knocked the breath out of her and she glared at him so fiercely he was glad she knew it was all just pretend-- Right? Right.

"We're here for the children," he muttered to her, to remind them of their purpose in case she was tempted to consider him an enemy after all. "Let me know if you see any openings."

***

Somehow, Sinbad hadn't expected everyone in the streets to stop what they were doing and stare at them. They didn't need their escort to push through the crowds; the people fell away as soon as they saw them, halting their conversations in mid-sentence to follow them with their eyes, before turning back to their companions and muttering in excited whispers. Sinbad couldn't catch most of what they were saying, so he wasn't sure if the attention was good or bad. Apparently, Bryn really did have a reputation here... but for what, he wasn't exactly sure. 

One way or another, the fact that everybody in the city now recognized them was going to make it more challenging to get out of here. But then, he didn't think that the subtle approach was going to work for what he had in mind, anyway. Right now, it was just him and a mysterious woman with unreliable but possibly formidable powers against... well, most of the temple hierarchy, for sure. So, yeah, flashy and dramatic were likely their best hope of making it out of this mess alive, children or no children. 

But surely not everyone was happy about the child sacrifices here? Parents, perhaps? Even if it was dressed up as a glorious service to the city, or paid for in coin, he couldn't imagine that they'd be happy about it. 

He eyed the crowd, watching the awe and fear in their eyes when they caught sight of Bryn. Perhaps they'd have more allies than they thought. He chuckled. 

"What's so funny?" Bryn asked in his ear. 

It was too complicated to explain. "This is not what I had in mind when I woke up this morning," he whispered back. 

She set her lips as they came around a corner and saw a shining, glorious structure of white marble shining in the distance with smoke pouring from a hole in the roof at its center. Sinbad assumed that must be the Temple of Baal. 

Bryn paused, staring at it, for a moment, before she resumed walking, shaking her head. "Me neither." 

He prayed to every divinity he was on speaking terms with that Maeve wasn't here. If the way they'd treated Bryn was any indication, it was not a good place for a sorcerer's apprentice to end up. And Maeve wasn't exactly good at keeping a low profile, either... 

***

As Sinbad had hoped, their escort did not lead them through the main entrance, splendid though it was with its marble steps and soaring columns. Instead, they came in through door off one of the side streets, in a lower levels half-buried underground. They made their way through a series of corridors, with doors spanning off in all directions, forming a dizzying maze of passages. At one point, Sinbad could hear howling in the distance, and the chimera in front of them ceased whining long enough to wag its tail in recognition. 

And then he saw it: a large metal grate, behind which were - young children of various ages and sizes, curled up on the piles of straw that had been put down as a lining on what would otherwise be cold stone. 

Sinbad slowed. "Hey!" he yelled up to the guards. "What's this?" 

The guards turned, saw where he was pointing. One of them spat. "This is where the sacrifices to Baal stay before they are chosen for the fire," he of them said. 

"Your god wants you to sacrifice children?" 

The guard shrugged. "So the priests say. It's supposed to be a great honor. But most of these children come from poor families. Too many mouths to feed and all that. Their parents don't miss them much." 

"I see," Sinbad said as if he understood, although inwardly he was fuming. He wasn't sure if the guards were admitting to kidnapping or buying the children off their parents, but either way, the nonchalance was appalling. 

He was tempted to blow their cover and start the fight then and there, but - no, there still too many of them. And then their opponents would know exactly what he and Bryn were trying to do. It would be better if that was a surprise. Better to wait. 

So he let the guards lead them up a series of stairs and into a light-filled antechamber. The smell of smoke - and the feeling of warmth - was much stronger here. 

The guards gestured for Sinbad to drop the rope. "Leave her. We'll take her from here." 

He chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, fellows, I wasn't born yesterday. Your High Priest promised me a very handsome reward to find his fugitive and I'm not going anywhere until I can see him and deliver the goods to him personally." His tone was genial enough on the surface but underneath it, there was cold steel. _You don't want to cross me,_ said his body language projected, though he kept his body loose and relaxed, with no obvious sign of tension. 

There was a pause while the guards considered this that seemed to go on and on forever. Sinbad forced himself to keep breathing and smile. _Should have been an actor_ , he thought absently. 

"Wait here, then," one of their guards gestured. "We'll see if the High Priest is ready to receive you." 

"Oh, believe me, he doesn't know what he's missing right now," Sinbad said. "You go let him know we're here. I'll wait." 

Two guards, including the speaker, disappeared on their errand, but the other six remained in the room with them. The chimera dogged their footsteps, whining piteously, clearly trying to avoid going anywhere near Sinbad and Bryn.

 _Well, then. This is probably as good as it's going to get. Time to make our move._ He tried to catch Bryn's eye. _I hope she's ready for this._

Sinbad strolled over to two of the guards, Bryn trailing in his wake. "So, when's the big celebration?" 

"As soon as-"

Suddenly, Sinbad dropped the rope as Bryn slipped her wrists out of the binding knots (which looked more impressive than they really were) and punched the nearest guard in the face. 

"Look out, she's loose!" Sinbad shouted as he reached for his sword. And then the battle was joined and everything happened very, very fast. 

The first guard wasn't expecting Sinbad to stab him; he sputtered and went down, confused, as Sinbad lunged for the next man. He got another hit in before they caught onto the situation, and then the rest were onto him, swords drawn and everyone shouting like mad at the top of their lungs. 

The man she'd punched was already down, but now Bryn, still weaponless, was cornered by two guards coming at her with drawn swords. _I ought to have given her my extra bootknife,_ Sinbad thought absently, but even as he watched, Bryn ducked and rolled and the two guards slammed into each other. She came up behind them in a fighting crouch, and kicked the nearest guard in the back hard enough that Sinbad could hear the man's ribs crunch as he went down like a sack of grain. The second man lunged for her with the sword, but she dodged his blow and came forward into his guard, and brought her knee up into his groin and he was done fighting after that. 

_On second thought, maybe she can take care of herself,_ Sinbad decided. He traded a few blows with the next guard, but it didn't take long for him to find an opening and finish him. When he looked over again for Bryn, she had already taken the last guard down and the room and two of them were the only ones in the room left standing. 

_So far, so good. Now for the hard part._

Throughout the whole battle, the dog-lizard creature was no help at all to anyone, whining piteously in the corner. He went over to it, his sword still drawn, and it whimpered as his shadow fell across it, its dull red eyes wide with terror. 

On impulse, Sinbad extended his hand out towards the creature. It didn't stop trembling, but it extended its face a few inches towards Sinbad's hand, its teeth suddenly very visible - and sniffed once or twice, just like a dog. 

"Good boy?" Sinbad ventured. 

With a yelp, it bolted forward towards Sinbad, only to stop short just in front of him. He reached down and gingerly scratched its head, wondering how close he was to having his arm bitten off. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Bryn had taken a sword off one of the guards, and was holding it by her side as she watched, but she hadn't come any closer to to the unfolding drama. 

"Making a friend, I think." Sinbad kept scratching. The chimera closed its eyes and panted, a mewling pathetic little moan that he though might approximate happiness.

He stopped scratching. The chimera opened his eyes and whined a little. Sinbad shook his head. "We're going to see the children," he said. He knew how to get back down there, but it wasn't clear how much the creature in front of him understood. If it did--

The chimera bolted forward, back to the doorway that lead back down to the lower levels. It paused there, turned back towards them as if it were waiting, and howled. 

Sinbad looked and Bryn, his eyebrows crooked. "Shall we?" 

Bryn held up a ring of keys in her other hand. Clever woman. "Let's go." 

*** 

The High Priest spent the afternoon in the temple courtyard, as was his wont, supervising the raking of the coals in preparation for the sacrifice scheduled for sunset. It was a warm, bright day, and the fires made it even more uncomfortable, but his face never betrayed the slightest hint of discomfort, which would have made him unworthy to honor the god. 

The courtyard itself was simple and unadorned. The floor and walls were white stone, and at the center stood the sacred statue of Baal Moloch itself, surely the most wondrous of all the wonders in the world. 

It was the image of a giant man, cast in bronze, so tall that the top of his head was level with the roof of the temple itself. His face was bearded and stern, and his two hands were held outstretched out away from his body, where the fire itself burned in an enclosed brazier. As the fire grew hotter, heat from the flames caused the statue's limbs to contract, sliding whatever was contained in those cupped metallic palms to fall into the sacred fire. Likewise, the heat would also cause the statue's mouth to open, and causing smoke to belch forth and into the air above the temple. 

Although the High Priest had originally intended to hold the sacrifice of the witch-woman that morning, he'd held it off until she could be successfully retrieved, at great expense, given how much fuel was needed. But he could not afford to delay much longer. If his servants' incompetence allowed the witch-woman to escape again, then a child would do. 

One way or another, Baal would not be disappointed. 

As if summoned by his very thought, two of his guards came into the courtyard and gave him a crisp salute. "High priest! We are pleased to inform you that the witch-woman has been captured at last!" one announced. 

He turned, unable to keep the relief and the irritation out of his voice. _At last!_ "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring her in! Baal is hungry!" 

The first guard hesitated, and the second guard awkwardly stepped in. "Umm, high priest, we found her in the company of a bounty hunter who says that he will not surrender her to the fires until he receives his payment." 

The High Priest wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Bounty hunter? What bounty hunter? I did not send out any freelancers for this--" 

The guards blanched. "But, lord, then who is--" 

The High Priest's nerves, already strung after a long, anxious day of waiting, snapped. "You fools!" he shouted. "It's some sort of plot to destroy us all! Alert the entire temple! Bring _both_ of them to me at once!" 

"Y-yes, my lord!" the two guards babbled, and the other guards who roamed the perimeter of the courtyard took up the cry - "Intruders in the temple! Intruders!" - although they were forbidden from leaving their sacred posts lest the statue itself be defiled. 

The High Priest turned back to the statue, and the rising billows of smoke and flame that poured from its mouth and eyes. Sweat dripped down his face, although this time it was as much from fear as it was from the heat. "Please, Lord," he prayed to Baal, "do not destroy us. We will bring you your sacrifice before the day is out. We will prove worthy of you. Help us and you will be well rewarded." 

There was no immediate answer, although he swear he saw the statue's eyes gleam in anticipation. 

***

It took Bryn three fumbling tries before she found the right key to the children's prison and Sinbad slammed the door open. "Stay!" he said sharply to the chimera, as he and Bryn went into the room. Every single child in the room stared at them as they pounded down the short flight of stairs into the open prison. 

Dungeons, in Sinbad's experience, were pretty much the same the world over - and he considered himself something of a connoisseur. But he had never been in one that looked more like a nursery or a school than a den of drunken ne'er-do-wells or hardened criminals before. 

He cursed under his breath. He liked kids, he really did, but he had never been very good at handling them. Doubar and Rongar had always been the ones with the knack for it. Still, nothing to do but try his best. 

"All right, everybody, naptime is over," Sinbad announced. "Let's go!.... Your parents are waiting for you outside," he added as an afterthought, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping against hope that this was actually true. 

Nobody moved. They were all, he thought sourly, probably stunned from the unexpectedness of his entrance. "Come on!" he said, gesturing wildly towards the door. "Bet you can't beat me and my dog outside!" 

Well, _that_ got them up and going. As Sinbad started up the steps back the way he'd come, the kids flung themselves after them. "Lead the way," he said to the chimera, who bounded eagerly forward, yowling in triumph. "Go, on, go on, go on," he waved, as the kids filed out of the doorway with varying degrees of enthusiasm. "Follow that dog!" 

"Bryn! Let's move it!" he shouted behind him as he set off in a light jog after the parade of children he'd unleashed. He hoped his instincts to trust the chimera were correct or else this was going to be a really short trip. 

Still, if his goals were complete chaos and utter disarray, it looked like he had succeeded nicely. The only question was whether the temple guards were organized enough to handle it. 

"He's right," Bryn said to the few children who were just getting to their feet - too scared or shy to make the first move. "Your parents are waiting for you," she coaxed as she herded the last few children out the door. 

The last child, a tiny girl in a shapeless brown shift, shook her head and stood frozen, looking up at Bryn with wide, frightened eyes. 

"Come on," Bryn coaxed. "I'll carry you. You'll be safe." 

The child nodded slowly and let Bryn scoop her up in her arms and take her out the door. She slammed it shut with her foot on the way out.

***

They only ran into a handful of guards, which was, as far as Sinbad was concerned, proof that a generous deity might be looking out for them after all. The chimera hit the first one, giving Sinbad enough time to take out the other two, and keep the ragged band of children moving forward. On two other occasions, he hit guards who stepped out of adjoining passageways before they knew what hit them and he could tell by the grunts and moans behind him that Bryn was doing the same. 

It wasn't until they were at the exit itself and he'd flung the doors to the street wide open that he realized she'd been doing it all with a small child clinging to her. They plunged into the dusty, crowded thoroughfare, towards the central square in front of the temple, the chimera barking and yowling amidst the cavalcade of children, now shouting with joy and excitement at the race (which they were treating like play, he realized with a start). 

He heard screaming as they staggered into the courtyard, saw veiled mothers running with outstretched arms towards their children, shouting their names, but there was no time to take any of that in. He caught Bryn's arm as she was about to push past him into the crowd. The little girl, still clinging to her chest, watched him with wide eyes. "Bryn. I'm going back in." 

Once again, he'd managed to surprise her. "What?! What for?" 

"It isn't enough to free the children. If we want the sacrifices to stop, we have to go to the source." He flashed her his best, cockiest grin. "Besides, the high priest is expecting me. I'd hate to disappoint him." 

He turned and raced towards the stairs of the main entrance, the chimera yapping at his heels as it followed him in lopes and bounds. 

"Sinbad!" she screamed at him, but then she heard a woman's hoarse cry -- "Eiseth? Oh, my _Eiseth_!" -- and she turned and there was a woman standing behind her, crying in relief and amazement and reaching out for the little girl in Bryn's arms, who reached back, screaming "Mama! Mama!" 

In a daze, Bryn let the little girl go back into her mother's arms. "Thank you," the mother was saying to Bryn, "thank you, thank you, _thank you_ \--"

She wasn't really listening. She was saying something to the mother, something about how everything was going to be all right, it was all okay now, but only a small fraction of her mind was even concerned with the (admittedly very happy and moving) reunion. There was too much going on, too much sensation all at once for her to handle it. 

Bryn should have fled. She was free of the temple, the children were loose. She had no further obligations here. She'd done what she'd come here to do, and yet - 

It wasn't enough. Sinbad had gone back in. Again. Alone. 

He was an idiot if he thought he could destroy the entire temple single handedly. 

_She_ was an idiot if she followed him. 

She knew had a choice, but in that moment, it didn't feel like it. It was stupid thing to do and she knew it was a stupid thing to do, and that she was probably going to die in there if she was foolish enough to go in anyway. But she didn't hesitate. She tore back towards the temple at a run, away from the chaos of all the reunited families. 

She didn't think she needed to worry about finding Sinbad. Whatever he was doing, it would be pretty damn conspicuous. All she had to do was follow the shouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of the statue of Baal Moloch and many of the details surrounding the sacrifices are taken from Roman accounts of religious practices of Phoenician-derived gods in Carthage. Historians question how much of these descriptions are true, or how much is anti-Carthage propaganda, but it works great for fictional purposes regardless of the historical veracity.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, there's the gate," Doubar said, as they crouched behind a conveniently placed pile of rocks outside the walls of a city they were all reasonably certain Sinbad was in. "Firouz? You think your exploding sticks can handle this?" 

"Of course," Firouz said at once, pulling out three of the most successful invention he'd ever created. Not only was it extremely useful, but it was one of the only inventions - along with the magniscope - that the rest of the crew had really taken to. As a result, he was especially fond of them and never missed an opportunity to use them. 

Rongar looked over and frowned. He didn't speak, but his point was clear: _How are you going to light them? A fire will smoke and draw their attention._

Fortunately, Firouz had that part covered as well."Not to worry, Rongar. I brought some of the - sparking sticks as well. You know, the ones we tested out a couple weeks ago when we got that purified sulfur from the apothecary? I think this is just the thing. Much faster than the fire piston or the burning glass, anyway." 

He pulled something else out of his pocket - a tin filled with tiny sticks. He took one out and put the rest back in his bag.

"What are you talking about?" asked Doubar, who had completely missed Rongar's part of the conversation. "You have a way to light these without fire?" 

"Yes." Firouz knew they should hurry, but he could never pass up an opportunity to discuss his work and Doubar's attention was a rare and precious thing. "It's quite a clever idea, actually. You take dry pine twigs, soak them first in sulfure and then in a complicated blend of chemicals mixed with resin to hold it all together. We also added a little bit of camphor, too, to make it smell better."

He could sense Doubar's attention waning. He rushed to the big finish. "Unlike most of the combinations we tried, which explode when you mix them on contact--" 

"So _that's_ what made that burn scar on the deck last week; I wondered about that--" 

"--this one stays inert until the application of friction," Firouz finished in one breath. He dragged the twig against the side of the rock and was rewarded with a tiny flame when he pulled the twig abruptly away. 

"Firouz, that's _brilliant_ ," Doubar said, and Firouz had approximately two seconds to glow with pride before Doubar immediately switched to the next subject. "Rongar, you think you can throw an exploding stick from here to that rock?" 

Rongar nodded. 

Firouz's sparking stick went out just then, so he had to grab another one, which was fine - he had plenty. "I've tied the three exploding sticks together to make a bundle. I think that ought to be enough force to take the gate down without hurting anybody standing nearby. And the smoke and surprise ought to give us cover--" 

"Oh, stop talking and let's do it then," said Doubar. 

Rongar held the bundle of exploding sticks while Firouz lit a new sparking stick and used it to light the fuses on the exploding sticks. With practiced ease, Rongar tossed the bundle out from the rock pile to land at the foot of the gate, at least twenty yards away. 

"Nice work, Rongar!" Doubar said as they all ducked behind the rock pile and waited. 

Thirty seconds later there was a familiar, satisfying _boom_ as the sticks exploded. Firouz couldn't stop grinning. No matter how many times he did it, it never got old. 

Of course, the explosion drew the attention of guards, who began to rush out the tattered remains of the gate, shouting and mobilizing for an attack. The war party rushed past the rock pile and swept into the surrounding woods and vanished from sight. 

The three men peered up around the rocks and back at the gate. Just as they'd hoped, there were only a handful of guards remaining and both of them had their backs to the outside at the moment. 

"Works every time," Doubar chuckled. "All right, that's our cue. Let's go!"

***

As soon as Sinbad stepped into the central courtyard of the temple, he knew at once he was in the right place. The giant bronze statue of a bearded man, its mouth belching fire, and its hands outstretched, matched the rumors Bryn had shared with him. This was the holy altar of the god Baal Moloch, protector of the city. This was where the sacrifices took place. 

He was here to put an end to all of that. And no one, god or mortal, would stand in his way. 

He strode into the courtyard, the chimera at his heels, studying the situation. There was a man in loose black robes leaning on an ornate staff, standing on a platform at the top of a wide staircase, just below those open palms. A priest, by the looks of it - but if there was just one person, that would be easy - 

He'd only taken a few steps into the courtyard when he heard footsteps and turned slightly to see an entire phalanx of guards armed with swords and spears surround him on three sides. A spear jabbed into his back. 

Sinbad put up his hands and stood there patiently while one guard bound his hands behind his back and another took his sword. 

"Well," said the priest at the altar, wiping his hands on his dark robes and turning towards Sinbad for the first time. "That went well, didn't it? You must be the bounty hunter I never sent. What a clever ruse. Pity it didn't work." 

He paused as he spied the chimera at Sinbad's feet. "Oh, and you brought my pet back with you, too. That was kind of you." He whistled, and the lizard-hound went running back to its master, groveling and whimpering, with its tail tucked between its legs. It settled on the platform next to the priest and lay down. 

"Traitor," Sinbad muttered under his breath, though he wasn't really surprised. If the priest was as cruel to his creatures as he was to human beings, it was no wonder the chimera obeyed - though not, he noticed, with any particular enthusiasm. 

"It worked just fine," Sinbad said loudly in response to the priest. "Bryn got away and the children have been set free. There will be no more sacrifices." 

The priest laughed - an ugly, cruel sound with little mirth in it. "A likely story indeed. Ah, here she is now." 

There was a flurry of footsteps as more guards entered, dragging an unconscious Bryn with them. Her hands were bound and her head lolled distressingly to one side, but apart from that she appeared to be alive and unharmed. 

Still, he couldn't contain his surprise. "Bryn!" he exclaimed aloud, although he was careful to keep the rest of his thought private. _What the hell are you doing coming after me? I told you to stay out of this!_

Well, to be fair, Sinbad wouldn't have listened to himself, either. Not when there was an abomination like this that needed to be destroyed. 

The priest laughed again. Sinbad was really getting tired of it. "We've learned from our earlier mistake. Her magic cannot help you now." 

Well, it would have been nice, but Sinbad hadn't really been counting on Bryn's assistance in the first place. 

"We'll spare her if you offer yourself willingly." 

_That_ he hadn't expected. He eyed the priest warily, suspecting a trap. "How do I know you won't kill her as soon as I'm dead?" 

The priest raised his eyebrows. "An excellent question. You'd be a simpleton not to worry about it. Let's just say that my god prefers his sacrifices... willing. Fear, grief, struggle - all these dilute the power and effectiveness. We must sacrifice twice - no three times - as many to make up for it." He nodded towards Bryn. "Her magic makes her a powerful offering. But your willing sacrifice would make you an even better one." 

Sinbad felt his skin crawl. It was insane, but it made an awful kind of sense. He'd ran into more than one cult with a similar philosophy before and it really hadn't been pretty. Still, if it meant they would let Bryn go free - 

"You give me your word of honor you'll let her go free, completely unharmed by you or anyone under your command?" Might as well eliminate as many loopholes as possible, assuming these people could be trusted to keep their word in the first place. 

The priest smiled. "May Baal himself strike me dead if I break my sacred oath." 

Well, good enough. Sinbad nodded slowly. "Very well. I accept your offer." 

The priest laughed. "Good. Very good. Guards! Bring him to me! Baal is hungry! It is high time that he be fed!" 

Sinbad rolled his eyes. _Spare me the crazy rhetoric,_ he thought, and looked for an opening. Things were dire, but he wasn't dead yet. And if he could just get close to the priest, than maybe--

The guards dragged him to the foot of the stairs. The heat and smoke were thick here, and Sinbad coughed, forcing a temporary halt. He looked up at the priest at the top of the stairs, who was beckoning them to come forward, an eerily calm smile on his face. 

That plan Sinbad had concocted a few seconds ago might not work, but damn it, he was going to give it a go anyway.

_Maeve, if this doesn't work, I just want you to know that I tried. I really did. And I'm sorry. I never got to tell you--_

With a cry, three of the guards holding Bryn fell in quick succession, a knife in each of their throats--

\--and Doubar, Rongar and Firouz appeared in the courtyard doorway. 

Sinbad had no idea how his crew had gotten here in the first place or how they'd known to find him, but he had to admit, their timing was exquisite. 

"Sinbad!" Doubar shouted, catching sight of his brother - "Doubar!" Sinbad shouted back - and the battle was joined in earnest. 

***

The priest was furious. He was shouting angrily to the guards, but Sinbad didn't have time to pay attention because he was busy fighting the guards. He kicked the man behind him; charged the one in front of and hit him in stomach with his face (not his favorite move, but effective) and brought his bound hands up to hit a third in the face. 

A fourth tried to spear him, but Sinbad blocked the blow with the binding on his hands. The spear sliced through the first two rounds of leather before Sinbad thrust his hands back and it sliced through the last two layers as well. The guard was frozen in shock by the unexpected maneuver and Sinbad took advantage of that hesitation to yank the spear out of his hands, flip it, and stab him with it before moving onto the next man. 

Everything descended into scuffling chaos. He just hoped Bryn was going to be okay. He didn't think his men would stab her by mistake, especially while she was bound and unconscious, but he didn't like the thought of her being used as a hostage again. If the guards hadn't been so stupid, they would have already thought of that, but fortunately, they appeared to be sufficiently distracted and the priest hadn't managed to remind them. 

The priest. Sinbad took out the two remaining guards, switching out his borrowed spear for a borrowed sword - he was really better with a sword - and charged up the stairs towards the priest. The priest was still shouting but Sinbad was moving too fast to hear and anyway, it didn't really matter. He raised his sword high as he climbed the stairs--

The priest raised his staff and it came down, not on Sinbad's sword, as he expected, but on his sword hand. With a yelp of surprise, he dropped the sword and it clattered to the ground. The priest raised the staff again-- 

\--but this time Sinbad was ready for him, and he dodged, ducking under and behind the priest as the man spun his staff through the air where Sinbad had just been. Then Sinbad hit the priest's unprotected arm and the staff fell into the statue's open palms and began sliding down the bronze arms towards the fire. 

The priest whirled and screamed, his eyes on fire with a fanatic's rage, and then it was down to a wrestling scuffle with hands because Sinbad wasn't going to have time to draw his boot knife--

\--and somehow, Sinbad wasn't quite sure how, the priest was pressing him against the bronze palms and Sinbad couldn't wiggle free and the metal was so hot from the fire's heat that it _burned_ \--

"You said you would die willingly," the priest hissed at him. "But willing or not, you belong to Baal and he will have you--" 

And then the pressure on Sinbad abruptly let up as teeth snapped and the priest screamed and let go, and he heard the chimera snarl in rage and suddenly the priest was fighting the chimera, too and Sinbad was able to pull away from the horrible statue and twist back, looking for an opening to hit the priest without hurting the chimera--

But it was too late. With a cry, the priest fell back into the statue's open palm, dragging the chimera with him, and both fell down the arms towards the fire. Sinbad closed his eyes for a second, not wanting to watch - there were two long, terrible screams-- 

And then, for a few heartbeats, an eerie silence. 

"Sinbad!" Doubar shouted and Sinbad turned, opening his eyes, to see his brother striding towards him, while Firouz was tending to Bryn on the floor while Rongar retrieved his daggers. "Are you all right?" 

Slowly, Sinbad came down the steps. He was limping a little, and he had a bruise on his face that ached horribly, but he was otherwise in good shape. The smell of charred flesh was everywhere now, overpowering and it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

There was, of course, a crushing irony in the priest meeting the same fate he had intended for Sinbad - but still. It was a horrible way to die. And that poor chimera--

By the time he'd gotten to the bottom of the steps, he was calm again, and the intensity had returned to his bearing. He hugged Doubar. " _Ow_ , not so hard, Doubar. Way to make an entrance. How'd you know I was here?" 

"A long story. We're just glad we made it in time. Sinbad, who is this woman that was with you?" 

Sinbad was about to answer his brother when he saw Bryn twitch and stir. He rushed over to her. "Bryn! Are you all right?" 

She nodded slowly, and started to sit up, before slumping back in a heap. "Sinbad! I--"

"Oh, I wouldn't advise that just yet. Rest for a little while longer," Firouz said, pouring a little water from his canteen onto a clean rag and wiping the blood off her face where the guards had struck her. 

"Bryn, this is my crew," Sinbad said, realizing it was up to him to make the introductions. "Doubar, Firouz, Rongar, this is Bryn. She's coming back to the ship with us." 

"Well!" he heard Doubar say under his breath, "he seeks a damsel in distress and he finds one! Little brother, you are so predictable." 

He pretended he hadn't heard Doubar and kept going. "Doubar, Rongar, do you think you can help Bryn walk? We need to get out of here before more guards come." 

"Of course," Doubar said. Firouz put the cloth back in his bag and coached his crewmates in how to support Bryn without exacerbating any injuries she might have suffered. 

When he was satisfied, Sinbad gave his remaining orders. "Firouz, give me your exploding sticks, and head out with Doubar, Rongar and Bryn. I'll meet you all outside the temple." 

"Aye-aye, captain," Doubar agreed. Rongar nodded. They started for the door, Bryn's arms wrapped around their shoulders as they helped her hobble out. 

"I only have two left," Firouz said apologetically as he handed over the sticks. "We used the others to take out the gate." 

Sinbad was beyond surprise at this point, otherwise he might have blinked at this. _Ah, well. At least we won't have to deal with the gate on our way out._ He'd been wondering how they were going to manage that part of the escape. _Well, providence has been good to me today. Very good indeed._

Now it was time for one last thing... 

He walked over towards the main body of the statue, where the fire burned, trying very hard not to inhale the smoke. He counted to a thousand in his head-- long enough, he hoped, for the others to get clear-- and dipped the fuses into the fire through gaps in the brazier that formed the statue's lower limbs and body. Now there wasn't much time left--

He propped up one stick at the base of the statue. Then he turned and ran towards the exit, carrying the last smouldering stick in his hand, and tossed it as high as he could towards the waiting, open palms as he went by. He didn't stop to see if he'd made it. Not for anything would he stop running now. 

He heard the explosion behind him as he cleared the last pillars and stepped out onto the temple steps, just behind the others. The columns swayed, but didn't topple over from the impact, as he'd feared. 

That was it. They'd done it. They were alive. 

And then he looked up and saw, across the entire plaza, a sea of ordinary people, mostly women and ordinary people - none obviously armed - their eyes fixed on the five strangers on the stairs to the Temple of Baal. 

*** 

For a moment, there was hushed silence. "Sinbad, what do we do?" Doubar whispered urgently beside him. "There are so many of them--" 

Sinbad put an arm on his brother's shoulder - the one that wasn't supporting Bryn - to calm him. "It's all right, Doubar. I don't think they intend to hurt us." 

He took one step down towards the crowd, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. No one in the crowd moved. He took another and another -- 

\--and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the crowd parted, as if by magic, creating a clear path in front of them. 

He turned back to the others, and waved. "Let's go," he said. 

"What are they doing?" Doubar muttered to Firouz and Rongar. 

"I don't know," said Firouz. "But come on, Sinbad's calling to us. Let go." 

_They're honoring her,_ Rongar said to Firouz without words as they went down the steps. Someday Firouz was going to figure out how he did it, communicating so clearly without speech or obvious signs. Once he'd pointed it out, though, it was obvious. When they got to the bottom of the steps, it was obvious Sinbad had come to the same conclusion. 

"Bryn," he said softly, "I think this is for you." And he stepped forward into the cleared path the crowd had made for him as the whispers rose up. 

"Me?" Bryn said, confused. "But I didn't do anything--I mean, I wasn't much help-- I mean you did most of the work!" 

He turned back towards her, raising up a hand in an apologetic gesture. "None of us would have come here if it hadn't been for you," he said. "And the people of this city know you, from your time here before your escape. For them, you brought their children back with your magic. Even if you don't believe that to be true, don't take that story from them. It gives them hope." 

_And gives us a safe passage out,_ he thought. He really didn't want to have to hurt anyone else today. Not if he could help it. 

"Tell them there will be no more sacrifices today," he advised her quietly. "I think that's what they want to hear from you." 

She gave him a fierce look that suggested she didn't quite believe his explanation, but she did it anyway. "There will be no more human sacrifice in this city!" she shouted. "Keep your children! Love them! Let them grow up! That is how you can honor the gods!" 

At her words, a great cheer went up in the silent crowd, as if those words were the confirmation of all they had been seeking. 

"Come on," Sinbad said. "Time to move." 

As they passed through the crowd, a path kept opening up in front of them, and people pressed in behind them as they went, so that retreat was not an option. A murmur rose behind them as they passed through, and although no one ever spoke to any of them directly, Sinbad could see how they were staring at Bryn, and mouthing words of joy and gratitude. Some of them were holding children, some of them were holding each other, and some were crying silently, with tears streaming down their faces as they watched Sinbad's group pass on. 

Twice, Sinbad saw temple guards press in from far away, only to be silently rebuffed by the press of bodies in the crowd. A swell of gratitude filled him. _They are protecting us,_ he thought. _Perhaps things really will be different here now._

Well, it would have been depressing if the people of this city went back to human sacrifice after all this. Sinbad was under no illusions about the nature of the world - things tended to revert back to the status quo as soon as the immediate crisis was over. But judging from the way that everyone was looking at Bryn, perhaps they really had made a difference. Perhaps there would be no more human sacrifices here ever. 

You simply did the best you could while you were there and that had to be good enough. You couldn't control people, or be everywhere at once. Even if they'd only a few children today, it still would have all been worth it.

They walked through the ruins of the city gates, where the crowd stopped abruptly and did not go any further. Bryn muttered something to Rongar and Doubar, and the three of them turned around, facing the crowd. 

She dropped her arms away from the two men supporting her, looked up at the crowd, and bowed deeply. 

Then she turned and --slowly, haltingly-- walked away under her own power, pushing Doubar's well-meaning hand away when he offered it to her. 

"Nicely done," Sinbad said as she reached him and he began walking with her, careful to match her pace so they remained level with each other. "It looks like you have a knack for this sort of thing." 

She smiled at him, still a little tentative. "I'm not sure where that came from. It just seemed like the right thing to do." 

He smiled back. "It was. They'll never forget you, I think." 

"Or you." 

He shook his head. "No, Bryn. _You're_ the legend for them, not me. Why is that so hard to accept?" 

She thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," she said at last. "I guess I just assume - because I don't remember my past - that it doesn't exist. That I really am nothing." 

"No one's nothing," Sinbad said firmly. "Besides, even if you are a blank slate - that just means you can write whatever you want on it now. Who you were isn't as important as who you choose to be." 

There was silence between them for a long time after that. But it wasn't an strained or unpleasant silence - just a thoughtful one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firouz invents a cigarette lighter in canon season two, but I prefer matches myself. While match-like firestarters date back to seventh-century China, the first commercial strike-anywhere matches are from the mid-ninteenth century Europe. That said, Firouz has always been a man ahead of his time.


	8. Chapter 8

Of course Sinbad had to explain everything that had befallen him and Bryn to the others. Then it was Firouz's turn to explain everything that he, Doubar and Rongar had encountered - paying particular attention to their visit with the Oracle. Sinbad listened carefully, without saying much, his expression unreadable, which made Firouz even more prone to nervous rambling than usual. 

As the three men expected, Sinbad's reaction to the Oracle's pronouncement concerning Maeve was not a happy one. 

"You're sure about this?" Sinbad asked abruptly, interrupting Firouz's logorrhea. "That's _exactly_ what she said?" 

Beside him, Rongar nodded. 

"'Turok's daughter will lead you to her'," Doubar said, clearly attempting to spare poor Firouz some of the captain's ire. "I heard her say that myself." 

"Rumina." Sinbad spoke through gritted teeth and brought up a hand to clench the pommel of his sword at his waist. His eyes were alight with an intensity that Doubar had rarely seen and it made him nervous. 

Everyone was suddenly on edge - except for Bryn, oblivious to the electric crackle of tension riding through the air. 

"Unless Turok had any other daughters that we don't know about, then yes, probably," Firouz admitted. "But we thought Rumina was dead in that battle --"

Sinbad cut him off. "No, Rumina's definitely alive. Maeve told me after the battle that she would know if Rumina were dead. She said... she said she'd failed.... she..." 

His voice trailed off, and he was almost grateful, because he didn't want to explain that scene to the others. Maeve had... 

"So, that witch is responsible for all of this! I knew it!" Doubar shouted, punching the air with his fist as if it were an invisible opponent. 

"It would explain a lot. She does have a thing for harpies," said Firouz.

"Well, she's made a bitter enemy," Sinbad said abruptly, although that threat seemed rather hollow, given Sinbad and Rumina had been enemies since the beginning. "Rumina will regret the day that she meddled with us on this." 

"Who is this Rumina you keep talking about?" said Bryn, breaking in suddenly. She already felt out of her depth in this conversation, but now she was attempting to reign in her sudden rage at Doubar, and only partially succeeding. Given how often the word "witch" had been used against her recently as a perjorative, she didn't like Doubar's terminology or his tone. 

Firouz and Doubar both started to respond, but they were abruptly cut off by a curt nod from Sinbad, who turned to Bryn as if he were just now reminded of her presence. "Rumina is an old... friend of ours, who doesn't play very nice. And apparently, she's decided to mess with my crew since she can't get at me."

Firouz, Doubar and Rongar looked at each other uncomfortably, but they all knew better than to interject. Calling Maeve part of the crew was _technically_ true, but rather missed the point. But that didn't seem to be something Sinbad was comfortable admitting right now. 

Bryn crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unmollified by Sinbad's explanation. "Look, I'm sorry your friend is missing, but we have to get one thing straight before we go any further. Did you tell _him_ "-- a pointed gesture at Doubar-"that those people called me a witch?" she demanded to Sinbad. "Is your crew going to try to burn me, too, when they find out what I can do?" 

"Bryn, wait--" Sinbad's foul mood was abruptly broken and he came back to himself to intervene in the sudden crisis. "You're nothing like Rumina. She's evil and cruel - she tortures people for fun, attacks defenceless villages with her monsters. It's all a game to her. You only killed in self-defence. It's a totally different thing. Maeve used magic, too, but only good magic, and Rumina hated her--" 

"Look, Sinbad, I appreciate your help when I was in a tight spot," Bryn said. "I appreciate your offer to join your crew while I look for my past and you look for your missing friend." She turned to Doubar, with such a fierce look on her face that the first mate felt himself step backwards, even though he was several inches taller and outweighed her. "But I will not sail with anyone who thinks that me or people like me are inherently evil. So let's just save all the whispering and rumors and have it out, right here, right now." 

"I didn't mean to -- Sinbad, can you tell her I--" 

"NO! This is not about whether your captain has decided he wants me around. This is about whether _I_ want _you_ around _me_ ," Bryn shouted at Doubar. "Why should I sail with someone who thinks I'm scum?" 

Sinbad looked over at the others. Firouz was frozen. Rongar was watching Bryn intently, his head bobbing in slow, almost imperceptible nods. He looked up, caught Sinbad's eye - and winked. 

Sinbad thought about his own unease, watching Bryn's magic vaporize the chimeras that were hunting them, and his own gut feeling to trust her. Apparently Rongar had come to the same conclusion. And then there was the fact that Dermott had lead Sinbad right to her -- seemed to _want_ for Sinbad to find her--

But Bryn was right. This wasn't about Sinbad's decision. This was about Doubar, and whether he was prepared to accept Bryn as a part of the crew. He couldn't interfere with that now that the battle lines had been drawn - not if he wanted to avoid Doubar's resentment. Sinbad was prepared to countermand his first mate if he needed to, but it would be easier if he and Bryn could sort out their differences on their own. 

To his immense credit, Doubar seemed to recognize this, too. Instead of shouting back at her, as Sinbad had expected, he took a deep breath, and exhaled with a sigh. 

"I'm sorry, Bryn," he said at last, after he'd had a chance to collect himself. "There's plenty of good magic out there that has no truck with evil, and only the foolish and superstitious tar it all with the same brush. I don't know you personally, but my brother vouches for you, and I will trust his judgement until I get to know you better myself. And I sense no evil in you now."

"Well said," Firouz seconded, as Rongar nodded his agreement. 

Sinbad thought this was a trifle hypocritical because Firouz didn't really believe in magic, only "sufficiently advanced science," but he appreciated the gesture all the same. 

Now it was Bryn's turn to pause and consider. She calmed herself back from the edge of raging fury, so that there was no trace of her former vehemence when she spoke. "I accept your apology, Doubar," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "A lot of people have been trying to kill me lately by sacrificing me to that bronze statue in the temple because they said I was a witch because I could use magic and I didn't agree with them, and I'm just - really tired of it, that's all." 

Doubar nodded slowly. "I understand." 

Now that the crisis had been averted, it was time for Sinbad to intervene. "Well, it's been a very long day for all of us," he said smoothly, as the five of them came out onto the beach where the longboat was waiting for them. "But I'm sure food and wine aboard ship will lift all our spirits." 

He wasn't sure it was true in his case. But it was important for the captain to set the tone, especially since the tension between Bryn and Doubar was still so fresh in everyone's minds. Doubar was especially relaxed after a good meal. Sinbad himself hadn't eaten since he'd left the _Nomad_ this morning, and it was starting to catch up with him. 

It felt like a betrayal to go back to the ship without Maeve. Even though he'd tried his best to find her on the island - even though he was pretty sure that the Oracle was correct and they wouldn't be able to find her without Rumina - it still hurt that she wasn't there. But at least they had a clue, a direction to move in. At least there was a chance that they could still find her. At least there was hope that she wasn't gone forever. 

So he smiled with a cheer that he didn't really feel as Doubar and Rongar rowed them out past the choppy breakwaters back to _Nomad_. Back home. 

It didn't feel so much like home anymore without Maeve. 

***

He gave Maeve's cabin to Bryn. He didn't want to - he didn't want anyone else inside it ever again - but quickly realized the foolishness and futility of the gesture for what it was, and gave it up to her without a second's hesitation when she asked where she was expected to sleep. 

It wasn't fair to ask Bryn, the lone woman on the ship now, to bunk with the rest of the crew; it certainly hadn't been something he'd ever expected of Maeve. Had Maeve been with them, she and Bryn would have shared the cabin, but since she wasn't here, there was no reason why Bryn shouldn't have it to herself. After all, space was tight on a two-masted deep-sea dhow like the _Nomad_ \- there was a private room for Sinbad, a smaller room that he had given to Maeve, and a slightly larger one for any paying guests they happened to take on. If he gave Bryn the guest quarters, then any subsequent guests were going to have to stay in Maeve's room and-- Sinbad liked that even less than having Bryn there. 

Besides, it wasn't as if Maeve had left much behind when she vanished. The only things Firouz had found when he searched it were the note, her gauntlet, and the trunk of clothes she'd received as a gift from Queen Nadia after the Vincenzo incident. To his knowlege, Maeve had never worn them and he wasn't particularly surprised that she had left them behind. 

The gauntlet, on the other hand... that was a puzzle. Had it slipped out of her hands on her way out, or had she left it deliberately? Why had Dermott not gone with her? Was it to reassure Sinbad that she would, in fact, return when she'd completed whatever task she needed to complete? Or was she fleeing from something so dangerous she feared for Dermott's safety if he accompanied her? 

From the tone of the note she'd left behind, he strongly suspected the latter possibility. He did not find this comforting. 

_I'll find you, Maeve. Just you wait. We'll find Rumina and we'll make her show us where you are. We'll make it safe for you to come back to us._

_I wish I knew why you ran, Maeve._

_I wish I had known last night was going to be good-bye. I wish I could have told you how much I cared, how much I--_

He choked back the thought. No. No. He would not cry. Maybe he needed to cry, but he couldn't. Not here. Not on deck with the crew bustling around. 

Maybe not ever, if crying meant he would get over this grief. Because he did not want to get over it. He just wanted her back. 

He leaned against the deck railing, the gauntlet draped over one hand, staring back towards the coast of Cyprus, now on the horizon and fading fast, when Bryn came over to join him. 

"Everything all right in your cabin?" Sinbad asked. 

"Perfect. I couldn't ask for anything better." 

"Well, we're happy to have you with us. And I have something else for you." He handed her the gauntlet. "This belonged to Maeve. But I think that you'll--" 

There was a familiar cry, and Dermott came plunging down out of the sky and landed on the deck railing next to Bryn. 

"--find plenty of use for it," Sinbad finished, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. Say whatever else you would about Dermott, but he certainly had a flair for the dramatic. 

"I don't know anything about birds," Bryn said haltingly, but she gamely slid the gauntlet on her right hand, clenched it into a fist, and held it out to Dermott for inspection. The hawk stepped up onto her hand without hesitation, and barely wobbled as she held her hand up balancing his weight. 

"I told you, he likes you," Sinbad said, smiling in spite of himself. "This is more accommodating than I've seen him with anyone except Maeve." 

"So I get her cabin and her gauntlet and her bird. Is there anything else I'm inheriting that I should know about?" 

That question hurt more than it should have. "Isn't that enough for now?" 

"I suppose so. Just as long as you know I'm not a replacement for her." 

"How could you be a replacement?" He could see what she was getting at, and it was true that the symmetry was uncanny, but surely that was just a coincidence. "You're Bryn and Maeve's... Maeve," he finished lamely. "You're different people." 

Bryn rolled her eyes at his density - clearly, he'd missed her point - but she dropped the subject, for which he was grateful. He really didn't want to pursue the matter any further right now, not when his feelings for Maeve were all tangled up inside him. 

"Dermott likes it if you stroke him like this," Sinbad said to change the subject, reaching out with two fingers to stroke the soft, smooth feathers along the hawk's lower belly. To his relief, Dermott accepted the touch with equanimity. He wouldn't have put it past the bird, contrary bastard that he was, to take a nip out of his fingers to spoil the moment. 

"Welcome to the _Nomad_ , Bryn. I'm glad you're here with us instead of whatever else fate had in store for you," Sinbad said honestly. As much as Maeve's loss hurt, it was good to have someone new around - someone who didn't constantly remind him of Maeve, someone who could use his help without being completely helpless herself. 

It was too early to tell at this point, but he had a feeling she was going to be a very good friend. And he had a feeling he was going to need her just as much as she needed him. 

"Yes," she said, looking first at him, then at Dermott, then the whole wide arc of the island behind them. "I'm very glad to be here, too." 

***

There were protocols to see the Oracle, of course, but the great sorceror Turok did not deign to follow them. He simply materialized in her private chamber, where she was combing her hair. "Oracle, you must tell me where my daughter Rumina is," he said by way of greeting. 

She looked at him for a moment, then went back to combing her hair as if he hadn't spoken. 

He towered over her, his expression wide and terrible if she were looking at it, but she wasn't. "My daughter Rumina has vanished and I know you know how to find her. You must tell me where she is." 

"How do you know she's alive?" the Oracle asked, finally deigning to meet his eyes at last. 

"I would know if she were dead. She's not dead, but I can no longer locate her using my own considerable powers. Now, you bitch, for the last time, _where is my daughter?_ " 

She remained silent, her lips pursed, watching as his agitation built. Finally, Turok could take it no longer. He slapped her, long dark nails dragging across her cheek. There was blood on her face when he pulled his hand away.

Her expression did not change. For a long moment, she continued to look at him, measuring him, studying him, and (he was certain of it) judging him and finding him unworthy. But at last she spoke, and the ring of prophecy was in her voice. 

"Your daughter is alive, Turok. And she sails with Sinbad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone, and thank you for finishing the first episode of this Adventures of Sinbad Virtual Season! How's that for a cliffhanger ending? 
> 
> I loved season one, but I found the second season to be... uneven, to say the least. In addition to losing my favorite character, Maeve, and dropping the associated story arc with Turok and Rumina, Season Two ended up being a series of one-offs, with very little development or build-up over the course of the season, which I found frustrating from a narrative standpoint. The one exception was the season finale, "Hell House," in which the demon Scratch uses a false Maeve as bait to lure Sinbad into his domain, and Sinbad is forced to come to terms with his feelings for her and reach some sort of emotional closure. Since that's also the last episode that was ever filmed, it feels like it comes too little, too late. 
> 
> Inspired by the virtual seasons written by dedicated fans in the late '90s and early 2000s, I decided I would try my hand at one and address some of the issues with canon. In other words, I would write the story I wanted to see: a series of relatively independent episodes with their own story arcs that built on each other for a full and complete story narrative over the course of the season. And I decided to use the most interesting aspect of the canon season two - Maeve's disappearance, Sinbad's angst and refusal to deal with his feelings over her loss, and the Maeve doppelganger/harpies - as a springboard for this virtual season. 
> 
> I also want to address a number of other questions that the canon never got around to answering. What happened to Rumina, Turok and Scratch? What are they up to? Who is Bryn, and what is the true nature of the rainbow bracelets? What's up with harpies, anyway? Hopefully, this time we'll get to find out!
> 
> Finally, I wanted this season to cover some other themes that weren't explored in canon: the role of women, power and agency, and how magic plays into all of the above. 
> 
> It's a tall order, with a lot of moving parts to juggle, but I'm enjoying the process, and presumably you are as well, if you've managed to read this far. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this episode, I encourage you to leave a comment or kudos. The Sinbad fandom is pretty small, so your support means a lot to me and gives me added incentives to keep going.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and I look forward to seeing you at the next episode!


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